


High-Wire High Jinks

by TigressDreamer



Category: Strange Magic (2015)
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Alternate Universe - Circus, Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Implied/Referenced Underage Relationship(s), Mild Language, Racism, Underage Drinking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-18
Updated: 2020-09-18
Packaged: 2021-03-07 19:15:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 16
Words: 78,626
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26532709
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TigressDreamer/pseuds/TigressDreamer
Summary: The Dark Forest Circus and the Light Field Circus have been rivals for as long as anyone can remember. They always performed in the same cities at the same time, year after year. Only High Jinks can ensue after the status quo is broken and balancing love with misery is a High-Wire act.
Comments: 28
Kudos: 18





	1. Day One - Morning

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Something Fey This Way Comes](https://archiveofourown.org/works/4889227) by [EndoratheWitch](https://archiveofourown.org/users/EndoratheWitch/pseuds/EndoratheWitch). 



> There is mention of underage relationships, underage drinking, alcoholism, past abuse (verbal, physical, and mental), racial/racist undertones (who am I kidding, it's a big part of the story), and a ton of emotional distress. I tried to keep it as light/happy a story as possible without dismissing how bad/distressing the events really are. I hope I succeeded.
> 
> IT'S FINISHED!!! YAY!!! Wow, this was a bit of a struggle! I had planned for them to be small chapters but the story grew bigger than I expected. I think I got all my bunnies caged but if you see a plot hole, go ahead and point the bad bunny out. As a warning, I'm having a bit of health trouble at the moment and may not be able to write as much, hence why this story took over a year and a half to finish, so don't worry about me quitting if I don't publish another story for a while because I'm probably just hibernating. Constructive advice is appreciated but please refrain from criticism. Enjoy!

The hustle and bustle filling the normally vacant field is music that most people hear as noise. She is not most people. It's an orchestra playing a symphony to her ears, albeit with different players than she is accustomed to but still a symphony. Taking a deep breath of the wonderful smell accompanying the circus, Marianne shuts her truck's door and heads toward the circus grounds.

Her amethyst black-trimmed sleeveless long duster coat swishes against the dewed grass teasingly with every step, the billowy fabric belted around her waist not completely covering the black-laced roses adorning her rose-red laced v neck tank top or the black leggings. Her black leather platform boots complete her look while also adding six inches to her five-six height with the see-through faux rosebud wedges.

Attracting attention because of her preferred attire is something she is used to but for once, she only gets a curious glance from the workers before they continue their tasks. Not even her black synthetic-leather fingerless gloves, her plum eyeshadow, and plum lip gloss, or even her black velvet choker with amethyst dragonfly pendant seem to shock them and it is...refreshing.

"Are you looking for something, dearie?"

Turning at the question, Marianne spots a short elderly woman with large broken horns between her mass of frizzy red hair waiting expectantly for an answer.

"I'm looking for Gregory Kingly. Would you direct me to him?" Marianne asks.

"He's kinda busy right now. It is opening day this afternoon, after all," the woman points out. "Where are my manners! I'm Griselda Kingly."

"Marianne...," Marianne starts.

"What do we have here?"

Marianne can't help the involuntary shiver at the growled question. It's definitely not fear that she is feeling at the deep husky tone or at the lean male figure coming into view. If this is who she thought it was then she is in trouble.

Brillant blue eyes grab her attention before she focuses on the rest of his form. Even with her platform boots, he's taller than her by at least six or seven inches. His skin is pale despite his exposure to the sun and his short spiked ash-brown hair seems stiff and wiry. Her fingers twitch to discover the texture, especially since there's more speckling along his long jaw to his high cheekbones. His stout pointed ear is a testament to him being fae-touched, along with the light coating of grey exoskeleton covering the back of his arms to his wrist.

Trailing her eyes to the rest of him as he keeps walking toward them, she nearly drools as the grey sleeveless t-shirt leaves nothing to imagine as it clings to the man's broad shoulders and petite waist. His pecs and abs strain against the sweat-stained material and her eyes involuntarily travel down toward the long lean legs covered in dirty blue denim.

The breathy "whoa" doesn't go unnoticed and Marianne flushes at Griselda's chuckling. Oh yeah, she's definitely in trouble. Especially once she catches sight of the pair of dragonfly-like wings twitching from his back.

'Please don't have a southern accent,' she begs.

"Bog, this girl is here to see you. Her name is Marianne," Griselda remarks happily.

"Marianne," Bog repeats, his voice purring over her name. "So what are ye doing here, Marianne?"

'Scottish? Hallelujah! There is a God up there!' Marianne screams silently before clearing her throat. "You're Gregory Kingly?"

"That's my name but I prefer to be called by my fae name, a lot of us do," Bog answers. "Are ye here to join the Dark Forest Circus?"

"I'm not dark fae-touched," Marianne denies.

"Ye're not? Ye sure look like one," Bog comments.

"So I've been told," Marianne sighs.

"That's what I like! I...I...I mean, that's what we like," Bog stammers, clearing his throat a few times. "We don't really go for frillies and bright colors here."

"Speak for yourself," Griselda huffs. "I wouldn't mind something a little more livelier."

* * *

Bog resists the urge to bury his face in his clawed hands at the brunette's laughter. He was doing so well, too!

He'd seen her when he turned around to retrieve more equipment for the big top's set-up and almost panicked when his mother approached her first. The last thing they needed was for her to play matchmaker with someone visiting them and possibly looking for a refuge from the racism the fae-touched still received. Bog could've sworn that she was fae-touched as he quickly made his way over. She sure had the presence of one with her slightly curled pointed ears, windswept short warm brown hair, and crackling amber eyes.

"I'm just here to talk to you, Mr Kingly," Marianne comments.

"Bog," he corrects. "I'm afraid that I can't oblige ye on that. As ye can see, we are in the middle of setting up and I don't have any time to spare."

"That's fine, Mr Kingly," Marianne assures, ignoring his repeated correction as she motions toward the crates nearby. "Those are headed to the big top area, correct?"

"Aye, they ar...woah," Bog breathes as Marianne picks up a heavy crate with no effort.

"You lend me your ear and I'll lend you my hands. Don't dawdle, Mr Kingly," Marianne lectures.

Bog barely acknowledges his mother's laughter as he stares at the woman walking away with awe, her amethyst and black duster trailing like a cape. She's incredible! Snapping out of his trance, he quickly grabs a heavy crate himself and catches up with his longer stride until he's walking by her side.

"First off, I'd like you to hear me out completely before denying my idea," Marianne starts. "I've done an unbelievable amount of research before I even breached a voice to this idea and I'd like a chance to get everything out before you reject it out of plain stubbornness."

"What makes ye think that I'll reject this idea out of stubbornness?" Bog questions.

"I've already talked to Mr DuFae, briefly, and his answer was that you'd never go for it," she mutters. "I'm here to prove him wrong about you being more bitter about a stupid rivalry that no one knows how it started than sensible enough to do the right thing."

"I'm listening," he comments.

"For decades, the Dark Forest Circus and the Light Field Circus have been traveling to the same cities at the same time to perform and each year the profits are always different than the year before that," Marianne explains. "Last year at this city alone, the Light Field Circus did terrible in sales while the Dark Forest Circus did great but the year before that, the results were opposite. It's a recurring pattern and this year at this city, the Dark Forest Circus will have terrible sales."

Nodding his head as they set their crates down before heading to get the last two, Bog gives silent agreement to her prediction. He had noticed the pattern as well and already they had less than half the ticket sales than last year.

* * *

'At least he's listening,' Marianne muses, picking up another crate like child's play.

"What's been happening is that people would buy tickets for the one circus one year and then the next year buy tickets for the other circus. This is actually a big problem not just for the circuses but also for the people," she continues. "I've heard complaints from several people in this city about how they wanted to go to one circus but the group they were going with wanted to go to the other circus and since majority won, they were forced to go to the one they didn't want to go to."

"I've heard something like that myself," he admits. "There have been a few times that a fight broke out between visitors because one of them wanted to go to the Light Field Circus and they decided to be a...party-pooper."

"Go ahead and say it," Marianne chuckles. "Some decided to be assholes and ruin everyone's fun because they didn't get their way."

"That's about it," Bog agrees with his own laughter. "It's worse when it's young kids because it's hard to tell if they're really being a brat or just acting out because they're scared of all the fangs and claws."

"Kids get scared at the Light Field Circus, too, with all its 'death-defying' feats of acrobatics," she mentions. "There is also one more problem to consider. Just because the cities' governing forces haven't had a problem with two circuses performing at the same time for the past several decades doesn't mean that they'll keep turning a blind eye to the petty rivalry. It's taxing to each of the cities to host two circuses and one day they might very well stop. I'm sure you're well aware of the fate that will await the people here if the Dark Forest Circus closes and it's a fate that will also befall those relying on the Light Field Circus to stay running. These two circuses are the only circuses that treat the fae-touched like the human beings that they are. Anywhere else and they'll be treated like side-show freaks."

The loud growl sends another set of not-fear shivers down her spine. Goodness, what that man's voice does to a woman! Hopefully, she can get everything done before she embarrasses herself.

Setting the crate down in its place, Marianne turns her attention to the angry man beside her. He definitely knows what would happen to his people if they lost their refuge. No doubt that the horror stories that she herself had heard are playing through his mind at the thought. For all the laws made to protect the fae-touched, it doesn't do a lick of good to a person's hatred for things that are different from them.

"I hope that means that you'll do what is best for everyone instead of what's comfortable for your pride," Marianne remarks. "There is no way either one of the circuses can change their performance scheduling because that will still leave the cities hosting two circuses but it's also equally impossible for one of the circuses to change the cities that they perform in. I've checked into that possibility as a precaution to an argument and it won't work. The amount of traveling would cause such a hassle that it wouldn't even be worth it in the end. Not even the two circuses keeping one half of the present route for themselves while adding new cities would work. A merger is the only way to protect everyone."

"A merger?" Bog repeats. "Between the Dark Forest Circus and the Light Field Circus? I can see yer point but would Mr DuFae even agree. Ye said that his answer was that I'd never go for it but ye didn't say if he agreed to it or not."

"I wouldn't have come here with the idea if I wasn't sure that it could be followed through, Mr Kingly," she starts, ignoring his correction. "I don't mean to be insensitive but I would like to point out that up until three years ago, you weren't the owner of the Dark Forest Circus. Mr DuFae's agreement is kind of irrelevant. Get my point?"

"The heir agrees to the idea?" he questions, getting a nod. "I don't have anything against it but how would a merger even work? I mean, the Light Field Circus has nothing but light fae-touched and the Dark Forest Circus is full of dark fae-touched. We're a complete contrast to each other."

"Contrasts make a beautiful picture if blended properly," Marianne quips. "How about I help you finish setting up and then show you the plans I've made once we're done? This way you can see for yourself and offer your own opinions."

Smirking in victory at his agreement, Marianne dutifully follows behind him toward the next task. She had thought that she might have to argue a little, but if his only worry is how it's going to work then this is going to be easy. 'Things are definitely looking up,' she muses, watching Bog fly up to throw the tent ropes to the waiting workers.

* * *

Bog tries not to laugh as he watches Marianne secure the tightrope rigging twenty-two feet from the ground without an ounce of fear. He's beginning to wonder if there is something that this woman cannot do.

First, she carried those crates full of heavy equipment without breaking a sweat while talking to him at the same time. Then she helped them raise the big top tent, pulling her fair share on the rope handed to her while he and the other fliers pulled from the air. Her knot at securing the tent rope to the peg was perfect and she even managed to teach Jessy how to tie the proper knot, a feat that everyone has failed at for months thanks to his slight trouble adjusting to his newly changed hands.

Marianne hadn't gotten in the way at all as they filled the big top with its riggings and furniture, eagerly giving a hand to wherever it was needed. He and the other fliers didn't have to rush to get the higher fixtures secured so as to help those on the ground and they got everything in place in record time. All except the tightrope since it always winds up somewhere that it's not supposed to be.

Searching for the elusive equipment had taken several minutes before a call rang out through the grounds that it was found and he had headed back to the big top to set it up, only to stop short at seeing Marianne climbing to the top of the ladder of one end while Jazz flew to the other. He quickly voiced his concerns but the unfazed woman had only remarked that she knew what she was doing. At least she had emptied her duster's pockets onto the nearby crate, just in case, but how she managed to climb all those rungs in platform boots is a mystery.

"Maybe you should convince her to join the circus," Griselda chuckles from his side. "Marianne is obviously a natural and nobody here would even care that she isn't a fae-touched."

"I'm not sure about that," Bog mutters. "About her not being fae-touched and all. She only said that she isn't dark fae-touched."

"You think she's a light fae-touched? Just because she likes darker colors doesn't make such an idea impossible," Griselda comments. "You still need to convince her to join."

"I think she also might be a part of the Light Field Circus," Bog mentions.

"That'd be hard to believe. Those stuck-up snobs would never come here," Griselda scoffs. "So, what did Marianne want to talk to you about that was so important?"

"About the Dark Forest Circus and the Light Field Circus merging," Bog answers, holding up his hand to stem off her growls. "Just remember that nice condolence gift Mr DuFae sent after Dad died."

"Keep talking," Griselda mumbles.

"Marianne is right, Mom. Both circuses can't afford to keep up this rivalry or the refuge we've made for fae-touched will collapse and they'll have nowhere safe to go," Bog explains.

"And you honestly think DuFae would agree to the merger? Your father and I didn't raise a fool," Griselda remarks.

"Whether he agrees to the merger or not is irrelevant," Plum chimes in, causing Bog to jump from her sudden appearance. "It's a very good idea and a prosperous one at that."

"I really wish ye wouldn't do that," Bog grumbles, calming his racing heart. "So, ye've seen something?"

"Balancing love with misery is a high-wire act but you don't need a safety net if you have wings," Plum answers cryptically.

'I hate it when she does that,' Bog growls silently as Plum walks out of the big top, the heart coin charms on her headscarf and her hip scarf jingling merrily. There were times that he wished his father never took in that crazy light fae-touched but they couldn't very well leave her without protection. There's no way that she could survive the continued harassment that her shimmering pale blue skin and long pale blue hair would get her, especially with her being as short as his mother at only four-three.

Looking around the tent at the waiting dark fae-touched, he has to admit that none of them could survive if they lost the Dark Forest Circus and the same applied to those in the Light Field Circus. Surely, Mr DuFae would see that as well.

* * *

Marianne really hopes that this plan will work. Only a few hours around the Dark Forest Circus workers and she's far more comfortable with them than with the people she grew up around. They're just a friendly and easygoing group, despite how fierce some of them actually look.

Surely, the rest of the Light Field Circus will be able to see how much this merger needs to happen. It won't even change things that much since the two circuses are so much alike but it will definitely make their lives far more secure.

"Got my end hooked up," Jazz announces.

"Almost done with mine," Marianne comments.

The dark fae-touched woman nods before flying to the ground with cicada-like wings, making Marianne aware of the large crowd looking up at her with amazement and waiting for her to finish. She ignores the blush rising at the attention and quickly gets back to work securing the tightrope. 'A few more twists should do it,' she muses before her ringing cell phone distracts her.

"Caller ID says Dad," Griselda states, looking at the persistent object on the crate.

Marianne groans before instructing her to place it on speakerphone and getting back to work. Hopefully, it isn't a disaster that she has to leave to go fix. She really wants to show Bog those plans before she has to get back.

"Marianne Alexandra DuFae! Where are you?" her dad's voice growls out. "You should have been here hours ago!"

"Kinda busy right now," Marianne calls back, ignoring the shocked looks. "And besides, I haven't had to report to you in years, remember?"

"That's beside the point. You missed the meeting," Donald mentions.

"Meeting?" Marianne repeats. "What meeting? There isn't a meeting for today. Just set-up and I've been told thousands of times that no one needs my help." 'This last twist should do it.'

"Everyone has been talking, Marianne, and it was decided today," Donalds starts. "There's no easy way to say this, dear. You see, everyone signed a Coup D'etat and made Roland the new owner of the Light Field Circus. It's better this way..."

Marianne barely acknowledges the wrench falling out of her hands to the ground below. She doesn't hear her father's rambling words trying to placate her. She doesn't see the shocked looks at her identity turn to outrage. She can only focus on that one word.

Coup D'etat. The mutiny contract.

How could they do this? How could they just ignore everything she's done for them and kick her out? How could they give it to HIM?

"...you'll see. Roland can do so much good," Donald continues. "Everyone lov...

"End the call," Marianne mutters, grateful as Griselda quickly heeds her plea. "Speed dial two, please. Dawn!"

"Hey, Marianne," Sunny's solemn voice rings out.

"Sunny, what is going on?" Marianne questions, gripping the edge of the tightrope platform. "A Coup D'etat of all things?"

"It's just that no one is really sure that you can run the circus once you become the owner," Sunny murmurs. "After two months ago, the failed wedding and everything."

"So, because I wasn't ready to get married and I had the brains to stop it before saying 'I do', that's a good enough reason to sign that cursed contract? Signing that contract is dangerous!" Marianne warns. "Who all signed it? Even you and Dawn?"

"Of course we signed it, Marianne!" Dawn's angry voice rings out. "Everyone with a contract signed it because everyone agrees that they don't want you in charge. It's bad enough that you think you're in charge now."

"Why, Dawn? When have I ever done something that wasn't good for everyone in the Light Field Circus?" Marianne asks, not noticing the tears falling from her eyes.

"Oh, come off it! You've been acting all high-and-mighty since Mom died and everyone is sick of it," Dawn growls. "Daddy can't even do anything without you interfering and he's the real owner, not you! What you did to poor Roland was the last straw. Everyone knows that you've cut Roland's paycheck since you stood him up at the altar. You need to grow up, Marianne. The world doesn't revolve around you. So, stop acting like such a bit..."

* * *

Bog feels absolutely no remorse for ending the call so abruptly and turning the cell phone off. He doesn't know what's all going on but he's definitely sure that last remark is uncalled for. He's only been around Marianne for a few hours and she's the farthest thing from any of the garbage that girl had said. The approving nods he receives from his people show their agreement.

"I'm a...I'm gonna borrow your high-wire for a moment, Mr Kingly," Marianne murmurs waterly.

His wings twitch in alarm as he watches the woman walk onto the tightrope. He readies himself to catch her when she steps off once she makes it to the middle before blinking in shock as she grabs the wire with her gloved-hands and swings herself around the tightrope. He watches in disbelief as Marianne releases her hold on the wire on her second swing and lets herself fly upward with the momentum, twirling and twisting before grabbing the wire again on her fall.

Over and over. Swinging with both hands. Swinging with one hand. Flying upwards and dancing while falling. Again and again, each more elaborate than the last. A dazzling display of amethyst and black.

"Hire her!" Griselda orders, the awe in her voice obvious.

Bog can only nod in agreement, not daring to take his eyes off of Marianne for both fear and amazement. He gasps with the other onlookers as her last swing propels her to nearly touch the tent's rigging. 'She's magnificent!'

Applause, hoots, and whistles ring out from everyone as Marianne swings herself onto the wire and walks back to the platform. She seems to pay no mind to the adoring crowd as she climbs back down the ladder and grabs her things off the crate, clutching the cell phone before turning to him.

"Well, it uh..it looks like I'm out of a job, Mr Kingly," Marianne comments, chuckling lightly. "You wouldn't happen to be hiring, would you?"

"He is!" Griselda insists. "That was some performance and would be fantastic to add!"

"Oh, I'm not a performer," Marianne denies.

"Ye're not?" Bog questions in disbelief, feeling deja-vu. "Then what was that?"

"The closest I get to flying," Marianne murmurs.

Her amber eyes shimmer with a deeper pain and Bog thinks back to the last Light Field Circus poster he had seen. It was last year for Dawn DuFae's debut performance and the blonde fourteen-year-old had her salmon and black butterfly-like wings proudly displayed while standing next to Donald DuFae in his ringmaster regalia, his own red and white moth-like wings folded down behind him. The entire circus cast was displayed in smaller pictures around the DuFae family but he'd never seen any poster with the woman before him on it.

He didn't even know that DuFae even had another daughter. He couldn't imagine the pain she must have lived through being different from the rest of her family with her lack of wings and being obscure to everyone. The pain of this newest betrayal was obvious from the drops of water accompanying her spectacular performance and he feels desperate to ease the shadows in her gaze.

"Well, what did ye do back in the Light Field Circus?" Bog questions.

"Everyone just called me 'Daddy's helper'," Marianne explains. "I did everything that the owner is supposed to be doing and more. You name it and I did it."

"I could use some help, if ye don't mind the title of assistant-slash-secretary to the most paperwork-incompetent person ever," Bog offers, glad that some of the pain in her eyes seem to leave at her laughter. "I do have one question that I need answered truthfully before I can officially hire ye. About the claim that ye cut the paycheck of..."

"It wasn't out of spite if that is what you're worried about," Marianne interrupts. "He was fully aware that I was legally obligated to garnish his wages and that is all I'm legally allowed to say."

"Understood," Bog reassures. "I know all about dealing with irresponsible parents."


	2. Day One - Afternoon

Marianne quickly strides to Bog's trailer, smiling back at the other workers that greet her and at all the visitors waiting past the fencing. It's so nice to be appreciated for her hard work.

Not once since this morning has she felt in the way or that her presence was being tolerated. Even her suggestions at doing something different had been received without complaint. In fact, they even took her ideas seriously and rearranged the booths for a trial period to see how the different arrangements would help. All except the fortune teller's tent, which she agreed with Bog about it staying right where it is. If people are so desperate for a love fortune, then they deserve the long walk.

"A few more minutes," Bog calls after she knocks on the door. "Damn it, ye stupid thing! Come on in!"

Marianne giggles at his continuous stream of curses and opens the trailer door. What should be a flattering view of an elegant ringmaster is ruined by Bog's scowl and a misbehaving wing refusing to go in the tailcoat's slot for it.

"Here let me help," Marianne offers.

Bog gratefully takes off the black gold-trimmed tailcoat and hands it to her. She quickly realizes his frustration as he slips his arms and upper wings into the coat but his lower wings twitch out of sync and miss the back slots. The unbuttoned material prevents him from reaching behind to grab the pesky things without dislodging his upper wings from the coat.

Marianne grabs his lower wings and eases them into their place before setting to work on fixing Bog's disheveled appearance. She doesn't notice the deep blush spreading on his cheeks as she buttons his amber waistcoat or as she brushes his spiked ash-brown hair into place.

'Let's see, the tall black dress boots are polished and his black pants aren't wrinkled,' Marianne notes, looking over his appearance for problems. Nodding her satisfaction, she turns her attention back to Bog's face and flushes in embarrassment when she realizes how familiar she's been acting. He quickly waves off her apology.

"Thank ye," Bog comments instead. "Manx usually helps me but he had to go help get the circus fleas to settle down and I told him I could manage. Obviously, I could not. Having wings is a problem when it comes to clothes."

"Not so much having wings is the problem but I think it's more about you being able to move your upper and lower wings separately that is the problem," she remarks. "You're missing a tie, by the way."

"Nope, I hate those things," he chuckles, putting his black leather cord necklace on and making sure the honey amber butterfly pendant hangs properly.

"Anyway, I came to inform you that everything is all ready for the opening ceremony and the crowds are getting restless. If you don't need me for anything else then I'll head over to help Griselda with the circus fleas," Marianne informs.

"Ye don't have to help with the circus fleas if ye don't want to. They can be a handful," Bog remarks.

"I'm used to dealing with the circus fleas," she assures. "Taking care of them was one of my duties back in the Light Fie...Ohhh, my poor babies! I can't believe I forgot about them!"

Despite her dread, Marianne quickly pulls her cell phone out of her duster's pocket and turns it back on. She had had no desire to turn the thing back on after Bog had thankfully turned it off, too afraid that she might cave into their pleadings once they realized that things are different and harder than it looked. The Coup D'etat had a set of rules to it that has to be obeyed and she can't let her heart be swayed. However, it can't keep her from making sure her circus fleas are okay. Especially since she was the only one who took care of them full-time since her mother's death.

She blinks in shock as her phone starts to show text messages and voicemail notifications before announcing a full memory. Maybe she should have checked this earlier.

"Wow! That is a lot of messages," Bog mutters. "They're probably regretting signing that cursed contract and begging ye to come back. I won't let ye, though. Ye signed a contract and I'm keeping ye."

"Even if I did want to leave, which I don't, you know as well as I do that I can't," Marianne chuckles, playing the voicemail messages.

Blue and amber eyes widen at the hate within the first message and Marianne can't stop the tears. She clings to Bog when he moves to catch her from falling as the cruel messages keep playing.

Why? What had she ever done to deserve those kinds of words? How could they? They're her family and her friends! She's known most of them her entire life! Now, this? All the work she's done since her mother's death to take care of everyone and this is her reward?

* * *

Bog glares at the offending object clutched between trembling fingers as it keeps playing each message after another. He can't believe the things he's hearing and he hugs the smaller body against him in a vain attempt to absorb her pain.

In only a few hours, Marianne has helped him tremendously by acting in his stead to solve problems while he was busy with fixing another. They got all the booths set up in record time with the added benefit of making it much easier to travel around, for visitors and workers alike. She even managed to tackle his poor paperwork skills as they relaxed on break before getting ready for the opening.

'For them to accuse her of such...BULLSHIT!' Bog growls silently, pulling her tighter against him.

If they were even speaking an ounce of truth then they'd be able to cite events besides "Poor Roland". The only thing he can hear them complaining about is her just doing her job. She was supposed to be the next owner of the Light Field Circus, after all, so it was only natural for her to take on the duties of it beforehand. He did it himself and his father encouraged it...that was probably because his paperwork skills were inherited.

"It'll be alright, Marianne," Bog reassures softly into her hair. "Ye have a home here now."

"I tried the best I could," Marianne sniffles."What more could I have done?"

"I don't know. Maybe nothing, because ye can only help people who want to be helped and it's quite obvious that they don't want to be helped," he comments. "There's nothing wrong in taking care of yerself. I promise ye that we'll never..."

"Ten minutes till opening, BK!" Stuff yells through the door.

"The show must go on," Marianne quips, chuckling waterly at his growl.

Resisting the urge to pull the woman back into arms when she pulls away, he instead hands her a tissue before grabbing his ornate golden quarterstaff and his yellow-feathered black pork pie hat. At least the recorded messages have stopped but there is no telling if it'll start up again or not. 'Of all the stupidity!'

"What are ye going to do about that?" he asks, pointing to the ringing phone.

He watches as she rejects the call before going to her contact list and blocking a shocking amount of people. Her laughter at his raised eyebrows is refreshing, even if it doesn't last long.

"I've devoted my life to taking care of them and I was happy that I could protect them but now...," she sighs, rubbing her dragonfly pendant. "You're right, I can't help or protect them anymore but that doesn't make what I know is going to happen any less painful."

"The Light Field Circus is going to close, isn't it?" Bog guesses, placing his hat on after exiting his trailer.

"I'll be surprised if it doesn't. Roland is clever and quick-thinking but he never does a lick of work himself," Marianne comments, following him out the door. "He used to be with a freak-show circus until the authorities closed it down a little over four years ago. He was born in that circus, so all he ever knew was that he just had to look pretty and do nothing. I'm sure he's smart enough to run a circus but I don't think he knows how. He was never interested in my duties even when we were about to get married and he never bothered to help me with them."

"He might have been learning from yer father. The man was very eager in explaining how good signing that cursed contract would be for ye," he mutters.

"If Roland has been learning from Dad then that's more trouble added to this whole mess. As for Dad...well, he means well, at least he tries to. Yeah, I know that it didn't sound like it," she concedes at his raised eyebrow as they near the waiting crowds. "Dad just had too big a heart and when Mom died...I guess the only way to explain it is that his head and his heart stopped working together, so he makes these really messed-up plans that he thinks are a good idea at the time. Does that make sense?"

"It does and it makes him sound less of a bad father and more of a walking disaster," Bog remarks, smirking as Marianne has to slam her hand over her mouth to keep her laughter in. "So, are ye sure that ye don't want to help me with the opening ceremony instead of sacrificing yerself to the savage circus fleas? Ye'd stand a better chance of survival."

"Didn't I tell you that I was also the circus flea tamer? Your unruly circus fleas don't stand a chance," Marianne quips.

Bog watches as she heads back toward the fenced-off living area with her head held high. One heartbreak after another and she keeps pressing on. He doesn't know how she does it, especially on a day like today. 'Tough girl,' he thinks fondly, turning his attention to the gathered people. Hopefully, they can give her some good memories for today.

Kissing his butterfly pendant for good luck, as is his traditional habit since he received the charm, Bog twirls his staff and smirks at the crowd's enthusiasm. 'It's showtime!'

* * *

Marianne blinks as she enters the circus fleas' tent. She's sure that it wasn't this messy when Bog showed her around earlier.

The cots and colorful storage trunks are separated to two sides of the tent and positioned as forts while pillows fly through the air to the opposite fortress. Even the gathered dividing screens aren't safe and she cringes as a pillow causes the pile to topple onto the ground.

Looking around for the keepers, she spots them tied-up in the middle of the battlefield and she waves jovially at Griselda's disgruntled expression behind the cloth they tied around her mouth. The other two adults seem more resigned to their fate as the war continues over their heads.

"Anyone care to explain the meaning of this?" Marianne questions loudly.

The results are immediate and silence reigns as three dozen pairs of eyes focus on her. 'If they are planning on intimidating me then they better do a better job of it,' Marianne muses, smirking and crossing her arms. Slowly, several of the children lower their pillows and shuffle out of their hiding place to untie their keepers.

Griselda laughs loudly as Marianne grabs the two pillows heading toward her before throwing it back at the offenders, causing both preteens to fall under the attack. The other children quickly throw down their pillows and hold up their hands as Marianne waves another pillow threateningly.

"Since that is settled," Marianne comments. "Let's get everything cleaned up and put back in order."

Despite the groans of disappointment, the children quickly obey the order and disassemble their fortresses. The furniture is settled back in its place, blankets are retrieved, and beds are made.

"You're a godsend, Marianne," Griselda chuckles. "They always get a little unruly during the first opening day of the season."

"It's understandable since they just endured days of traveling after a few months of not being couped-up," Marianne comments. "At least you don't have that many flighted kids. Now that is chaos!"

"Don't I know it! Bog was a very naughty son when his fae-touch came through when he was six," Griselda groans. "I had to put a leash on his ankle to keep him from flying off."

Marianne clutches her stomach as she bowls over laughing. That picture is just too much! She really hopes Griselda has photographic evidence and is willing to share it. Wiping her mirthful tears away, Marianne turns her attention to the watching kids.

"I'm quite sure that Bog said that he only had fifteen non-working circus fleas," Marianne mentions.

"We're not all circus fleas," ten-year-old Fiona pipes up, fluttering her fly-like wings. "The rest of us are circus monkeys. You do know what the difference is, right?"

"We use the same names in the Light Field Circus. Circus monkeys are children of the circus workers while circus fleas are those whose parents or blood-relatives aren't fae-touched," Marianne answers.

"Circus fleas are orphans and unwanted," five-year-old Brutus mutters, scratching the scales on the back of his hand.

"Brutus, that's not what it means," Griselda starts before stopping as Marianne walks over to the boy.

Sitting on the cot beside the big-for-his-age child, Marianne grabs his hand and inspects the reddened area on his pale-greenish skin. Brutus blinks as she grabs the lotion Griselda hands her and rubs it onto his itchy scales.

"What makes you think that circus fleas are orphans and unwanted?" Marianne asks gently.

"Because we are!" Brutus protests. "Either our mommies and daddies died and nobody wants us or our mommies and daddies gave us to Mr Bog when we become fae-touch."

"Doesn't mean you're orphaned or unwanted. Those with no family, they do have family now," Marianne states, smiling gently at several children's confusion. "Who takes care of you the most?"

"Mrs Griselda and Mr Bog takes care of us and we stay at their house when we go home," ten-year-old Joshua answers, scratching his pig-like nose.

"That's right and that's the way the circus fleas works," Marianne explains. "The owner of the circus becomes the legal guardian of any orphan given into the care of the circus. Which means that Mrs Griselda and Mr Bog are your family now and that also means that they want you. Those whose mommies and daddies had to give them up, that doesn't mean they didn't want them but that they wanted what was best for them."

"She's right, Brutus," thirteen-year-old Jessy comments. "My mom and dad sent me to live with Mr Bog because other kids were being mean to me when my fae-touch showed up six months ago. They didn't want to send me away but they do want me to be happy being me."

Marianne grins as Brutus' laughter joins the other kids' as Jessy flaps his fin-like ears and crosses his reptile-like green eyes while making a popping sound with his mouth.

* * *

"You're good with the kids," Griselda states. "Usually only Bog can get Brutus to get happy again when he starts thinking about his parents."

"What's his story?" Marianne questions quietly, nodding to the eating child.

"Brutus had gained his fae-touch when he was nearly two," Griselda answers. "They didn't have any living relative that was fae-touched, so they were unsure of how to take care of him but they were absolutely sure that they weren't giving him up and they had given us a call for advice. Then early last year, Bog got a call about Brutus' parents dying in an accident. The poor dear was left in the hands of some very cruel relatives while everything was sorted out but then the lawyer realized that Brutus' parents had placed the Dark Forest Circus as his legal guardian should anything happen to them. Bog went immediately to go get him and Brutus has clung to him ever since while being closed-off with everyone else. He just doesn't really trust anyone."

"Poor baby," Marianne sighs. "It's easier to explain to a kid why other kids are cruel to them than to explain why adults are cruel. A kid just doesn't know any better but an adult should."

"Adults should know a lot of things but sometimes we're still just kids imitating what we saw our adults do," Griselda comments, shaking her head. "Now that we got everyone fed, they'll behave for a little while until bathtime and bed. Go change out of your dirty clothes and go join Bog before the big top opens."

"I did change and I even took a shower," Marianne remarks, trying not to laugh as the older woman gives a pointed look to her attire. "What? I just love this look! And I may have about a few dozen copies in my closet."

Griselda's shocked face makes Marianne bite her lip in a vain attempt to stifle her laughter and she quickly moves to exit the circus flea tent, pausing only slightly as the working teenagers enter for their own dinner.

"Don't forget your promise!" Brutus calls out.

"I won't," Marianne assures, remembering her bribe to get the kids from starting another pillow war while dinner was cooking. "I'll be back to help with bathtime and give you a story before bed."

"Wait for me!" Jessy pleads, finishing his stew and running after her. "I told Mom and Dad that I'll join them once I ate dinner."

Marianne raises her eyebrow once they join the crowds of visitors. She's sure that there wasn't this many when Bog went to start the opening ceremony. 'Must be late arrivals.'

"This is a lot of people," Jessy mutters, walking closer to Marianne as some turn their attention to him.

"It's alright," Marianne comforts. "Nobody is going to hurt you."

"I know, it's just that it still feels weird when people start looking at me like a...," Jessy starts.

"Don't even finish that sentence," Marianne warns, grabbing the teen's clawed webbed-hand. "There's nothing wrong with you. But there is something wrong with people who look down on someone else because of their differences."

"It's a lot to get used to, though," Jessy admits. "Last year, I was like everyone else and then my eyes started changing, then my nails became like claws and my teeth became sharper. By the time my ears became like this, Mom and Dad had to pull me from school because of the other kids and some of their parents."

"I'm not going to say that I understand or that I know, because I don't. I've lived in the circus my entire life," Marianne comments. "It's natural for me to see nothing wrong just because someone looks different. It's harder for people who've mostly lived around people who look similar to them to not see something wrong with someone who looks different. Sometimes people will act bad to someone different, not because the person deserves it but because the person being bad doesn't understand. They don't understand that just because something is different, that doesn't mean it's wrong, it's just..."

"Different," Jessy finishes. "That's what Mom always says about everything. It wasn't until last year that I realized that it meant about people, too, and not just new food. Getting used to the staring is kinda hard but I do like being fae-touched. It's strange that no one else in my family is dark fae-touched, though. My littlest sister was born light fae-touched and I have a great aunt on Mom's side and a few cousins on Dad's side who are light fae-touched as well."

"Contrary to popular belief between the fae-touched, there isn't really a difference between light fae-touched and dark fae-touched, even if it seems rare for a family to have both. You're special, the very good kind of special, and don't let anyone make you think otherwise," Marianne murmurs, getting a wide sharp-toothed grin.

* * *

"Jessy! Over here!"

"There's my family," Jessy remarks, waving back to the large group before pulling Marianne along with him. "Hey, everyone!"

Marianne grins as Jessy is hug-attacked by his three younger siblings and older brother as soon as they get close enough. The light fae-touched toddler reaches out as well but her father keeps a tight grip on her. It takes her a minute but she recognizes the family moments before Jessy's parents recognize her.

"Miss DuFae? What are you doing in the Dark Forest Circus?" James questions, adjusting his hold on his blonde fur-covered daughter.

"I work here now," Marianne answers, sighing at the parent's quick look at each other. "It's not something I can really explain except that they wanted someone else to be the owner of the Light Field Circus."

"What about our agreement about Cora?" Lydia asks worriedly.

"You'll have to talk with the new owner of the Light Field Circus about that but I suggest that you wait for a few months since they're going to be busy adjusting to everything," Marianne informs. "Or, if you want, you can talk to Mr Kingly. I'm sure Cora would be happier being with Jessy if it gets to that point."

"But this is a circus for dark fae-touched," Lydia points out. "Wouldn't that be a problem with Cora being light fae-touched?"

"I don't think it'll be a problem at all," Marianne reassures. "The big top is opening in about thirty-seven minutes but I'm sure Mr Kingly will be able to talk to you if you want to arrange things with him beforehand."

"Yes, that would be a good id...," James starts.

Marianne quickly catches Cora as the toddler wiggles out of her father's hold during his distraction and she tickles the giggling energetic child before handing her back to her tired parents. Lydia's mutter about Cora being her absolutely last child brings a round of laughter, especially when the sixteen-year-old Matthew remarks that she said that about all of them.

She directs James and Lydia to wait by the fenced-off area before turning her attention back to the waiting children. Discreetly pulling several dollar bills from her wallet inside her duster's pocket, Marianne slips them into Jessy's hands.

"Alright now! I have a job for you and Matthew," Marianne announces, ignoring the teen's startled look at the money. "You two are going to take your siblings and go have fun with all the rides and games and then meet your parents in front of the big top in thirty minutes. I expect you to go have fun because next year they'll be so dazzled by their brother being a circus star."

"He'd make a great clown," Matthew teases.

"Of course I would," Jessy agrees before smirking. "After all, I learned from you."

The brothers playfully bicker as they usher the younger kids towards the booths and Marianne watches a moment more to make sure that no one is eyeing Jessy wrongly. It wasn't that uncommon for someone who disliked the fae-touched to show up at the Light Field Circus and she doubted that it is any different for the Dark Forest Circus. At least with the carnival-like elements that both circuses feature, those bigots couldn't view anyone as 'attractions' like the freak-show circuses portrayed them as and it also promoted good interactions with the people who may have never met a fae-touched in person before.

"I saw that," Bog murmurs, chuckling as Marianne jumps slightly. "Already working to take my job, are ye?"

"What? Oh, no, no, no, no! I swear I'm not doing that!" Marianne denies quickly.

"Marianne, relax! I was only teasing!" Bog reassures, horrified at the panic on her face. "I'm sorry, I...I...I shouldn't have done that. It was bad taste and a very bad joke. I'm sorry."

"Are you sure I'm not overstepping my boundaries? I swear I don't mean to but I might because I'm so used to being in charge and...," she hastily comments before Bog's finger stops her rambling.

"Ye're fine. It was a bad joke and I shouldn't have done it," he repeats.

* * *

Calling himself all kinds of stupid doesn't exactly help the situation nor could it erase the memory of Marianne's fear-filled face. How could he have thought it was a good idea to make a stupid joke like that?

He'd seen her when he went to inform Jessy of his family's arrival and had stayed back to see how she dealt with the teen's anxiety with being around other non-circus people since his arrival with them. It was easy to stay hidden within the crowd and watch her interactions with the family, even with his towering height.

Nothing in what he's seen or heard throughout the whole day even hinted that Marianne couldn't handle running a circus, hence his ill-thought-out remark. However, he has heard a few disturbing things that he'd better talk to her about before she gets the news in a more unpleasant way. He motions her to walk along with him as he heads toward the waiting parents.

"First off, I was coming to get Jessy when I saw ye and him walking toward the crowds and I stayed back because I was interested in seeing for myself how'd ye handle the situation," Bog confesses. "I'd like to say that ye handled everything perfectly. In fact, I couldn't have done better myself."

"Thanks. So, what's the bad news?" Marianne questions, rubbing her dragonfly pendent nervously.

"Bad news? There isn't any bad news," he tries, wincing at her pointed look. "Well...I've been thinking about what ye've said and ye're right."

"What I've said? I've said a lot in the past ten hours," she points out.

"About what ye said before I found out that ye are a DuFae," Bog comments. "Ye know, I didn't actually ask ye why ye didn't tell me who ye are."

"You interrupted when I was introducing myself to your mother and she was the one who introduced me to you. Therefore, not my fault," Marianne remarks. "Back to what I was right about."

"The fae-touched depend on the Dark Forest Circus and the Light Field Circus for refuge, a safe place to interact with non-fae-touched without being gawked at or mistreated and to be treated like the human beings that they are. Then there is what ye said to Jessy, that there isn't really a difference between light fae-touched and dark fae-touched," he explains, his thoughts returning to the plans he'd seen while Marianne tackled his paperwork. "Those plans ye made for a joined fae-touched circus are still possible and I want to follow through with them, as long as ye'll help."

"Roland owns the Light Field Circus now and I know that he'd never go for merging the circuses together. Even if he did, the Coup D'etat keeps anyone who signed that cursed contract from becoming the member of another circus for the rest of the year," she comments.

"I know and there's another thing that ye said that ye are right about. The Light Field Circus is probably going to close," Bog states sadly. "I'm sure ye noticed the larger crowd in the few hours since the opening ceremony and already we have the same amount of ticket sales for the first day as last year."

"But this year is the year for the Light Field Circus' good sales. I was sure my calculations were correct," Marianne insists.

"And ye were correct," he assures. "But it seems that whatever they've done since yer absence has caused some people to demand a refund on their tickets and come here instead. I didn't hear much but what I have heard doesn't sound very good."

The lack of footprints beside him causes Bog to stop and look at Marianne. He resists the urge to gather her against him at her pained posture with her arms wrapped around herself and visibly trying not to cry again. It's a reminder that the young woman isn't more than eighteen years old and probably dealt with more pain than him in his twenty-three years. He, at least, had a lot of support when his world came crashing down. He can only guess how long she's been holding herself together by herself.

"There isn't anything ye can do, ye know that," Bog murmurs. "They signed that cursed contract and they'll have to deal with the consequences of it. But we can help the rest and make the Dark Forest Circus a place for both dark and light fae-touched. I need and want yer help to do this, Marianne."

* * *

It's so hard not to run to the rescue, even though she knows that she can't this time but that doesn't stop the pain. She almost wished that she would wake up and discover that all this was just some new elaborate torture her mind came up with while she slept. It would be a relief to have some originality instead of the usual flame-born hell that frequents the corridors of her subconsciousness but...

Marianne smiles at Bog's offered hand and gladly puts her hand in his. It almost seems foolish to trust in someone that she's known for less than a day when everyone that she's known her whole life has turned their back on her but it feels right.

"Why don't you go talk to the Holtzs and I'll make sure everything is ready for the big top's opening?" Marianne suggests.

"Good idea," Bog murmurs.

"Oh, and could you please ask them not to let it be known where I am?" she asks. "I know that I can't help anyone from the Light Field Circus but I don't know if I'm strong enough to stay away if one of them manages to contact me, at least before the seventy-two-hour deadline is up."

"I'll tell them," he assures. "Are ye sure that no one else will recognize ye?"

"The Holtzs wouldn't have known had they not contacted me soon after Cora was born. If anyone saw me wandering around the circus, they probably assumed that I was a visitor just like them," Marianne comments. "I just blended in...well, except for my choice of style."

'Stupid blue eyes,' she growls silently. 'They should be illegal.' Even though Bog joins her laughter, his emotional eyes drag her in and nearly compel her to unload everything. That doesn't make any sense. Not only did they just meet but he is also now her boss. Plus, they really should be working instead of still holding hands in plain view of everyone!

"Uh, right, um," Marianne chuckles nervously, holding her tingling hand behind her back. "By the way, have you seen Angelina? I know you said that she usually helps with the circus fleas but she wasn't there when I got there and Griselda didn't say where she was, just that she was doing something important."

"She prefers being called Yemma and she's...uh...she and Greg are doing an errand for me actually," Bog explains.

"An errand? This late? Ange...Yemma is tonight's grand finale!" she frets.

"Don't worry, they'll be back in time," he reassures, absentmindedly passing the staff between his hands. "It's just...uh...well, ye see, Mom really loves these cinnamon rolls the bakery in this city makes and I forgot to pick them up when I picked up the circus permit. Ye haven't been on Mom's bad side yet and she can really nag at a person something fierce when she's upset, so I sent Yemma and Greg to go get the cinnamon rolls. They should be back anytime now."

"Alright," Marianne drawls out. "I'll go make sure everything is ready then."

Bog's behavior seems rather suspicious, especially when he quickly hurries over to the waiting parents. It could be explained by him needing to get this done before the big top opened but he didn't seem to be in a hurry until she questioned about Yemma. Plus, it's something that Griselda had avoided as well when they were fixing dinner for the children. It's not that she thought something bad was up, because she doesn't feel any alarm bells ringing, but she's quite sure that something is up.

'To quote Alice, curiouser and curiouser,' she hums before turning in her steps to go complete her own tasks.


	3. Day One - Evening

"What a drama king," Marianne mutters.

She blushes as Griselda's laughter rings out from beside her. Apparently, she didn't say that quiet enough. Bog gives a slight side-glance toward the backstage curtains at the noise and she shrugs to the unspoken question. As if she is going to tell him that she thought his set-up is extravagant.

It's not like her father is any better with the ornate golden chair he sat in in-between the acts but a bone-like throne? Seriously! She had thought the thing was a prop for one of the acts, not that Bog sat in it like a ruling monarch or something.

"You know, I said the same thing about my husband the first time I saw the show myself," Griselda admits, wiping the mirthful tears away. "The Kingly men take great joy in their own hype, 'The Goblin King' and all that. Didn't I read something about DuFae being coined as 'The Fairy King' or some such nonsense?"

"Yep," Marianne sighs, shaking her head. "The DuFae men are just as guilty when it comes to flamboyancy. Dad has mellowed out dramatically but before Mom had died...I was embarrassed for them."

"Bog was the same way about me and his father," Griselda chuckles. "That is until he hit puberty and realized that girls liked the flashiness. You can't deny that you're impressed by him yourself because you haven't moved your eyes off him since the show started, dearie. I got great news! My son is single."

Well...it's not like red doesn't look good on her or anything. She might as well paint the stupid blush on her face if it's going to show up so often. Avoiding the older woman's knowing amber eyes, Marianne deliberately moves her eyes away from the seated ringmaster and looks around the crowded big top.

The posted sentries did a good job in making sure the visitors abide by the policy of no pictures or videos and she doesn't see one suspicious gleam in the stands. Nodding to one of the sentries when she notices her attention, Marianne returns to scanning through the large space and grins as she catches sight of the section with the circus fleas and the circus monkeys. Seems that Jessy had smuggled his siblings into the best seats in the circus with him and the others. Not a problem, especially with how well everyone is getting along.

"Oh dear," Marianne murmurs with amusement.

"What is it, Marianne?" Griselda questions.

"Jessy's big brother looks positively smitten with Klarissa," Marianne answers, pointing to the two sixteen-year-olds.

"Oh dear, indeed," Griselda chuckles. "Hopefully, Klarissa doesn't miss her cue."

Marianne waves her hand to grab the kids' attention and pats the back of her wrist. Several of the teenagers quickly exit the stand, understanding the signal for what it is, and take their positions just before Bog announces the next act.

"Well, we better get another contract ready because that boy looks ready to join the circus," Griselda quips, snickering at Matthew's lovestruck posture as Klarissa joins the others in the trapeze act. "He'll just have to wait until his eighteenth birthday, though, unless he gets his own fae-touch."

"What is the policy here about minors dating?" Marianne asks.

"Not allowed," Griselda states firmly. "They can talk and hang-out but any behavior that can't be defined as 'just friends' can have their contracts terminated and they know it. It's a rule that was made when the Dark Forest Circus was created. It states that even though children aged fourteen to seventeen could be employed, they are still children and should stay children and not partake in any adult activities. Once they turn eighteen then they are free to be the adults that they are. Fredrick Kingly may have been considered odd for his day and age but he was a very sensible man."

"The Light Field Circus actually has the same rule but it's not exactly obeyed," Marianne murmurs. "In fact, there's a lot of things the two circuses have in common. Really a lot. I wonder why."

"Maybe it has something to do with what started the rivalry," Griselda suggests.

"Could be. It might be worth looking into finding out the cause but if it turns out that a DuFae started the whole mess...I'd totally believe it," Marianne mutters, grinning at Griselda's laughter.

* * *

"Can he actually use that?" Marianne questions as Bog gives another elaborate spin to his ornate golden quarterstaff. "I mean, for something other than showing off?"

"Haven't yo...Oh, right, you've never seen one of our shows before," Griselda mutters. "Yes, Bog can fight with his staff. Before my husband died, he and Bog used to do a whole routine where they would fight each other and sometimes against other opponents as well. Other than practice sparring, they never fully rehearsed it because they liked surprising the audience and themselves over who would win the fight. Bog still practices but he doesn't perform anymore."

"So, once Mr Victor Kingly died, Bog never continued the duels," Marianne murmurs.

"Loch, my husband's fae name, being gone was a large reason Bog had stopped performing but there is also the problem that no one else can match Bog's skill. My son is simply the best!" Griselda beams proudly.

Marianne grins at the proud mother and lets her mind drift back to a certain item stashed in her trailer. Maybe she could convince Bog for a friendly spar tomorrow morning. It would be fantastic to finally be able to fight against someone real instead of practicing alone.

Even though her father expressed his displeasure at her dangerous hobby, he still took a ringside seat to her secret early morning practices. One of the few instances since her mother's death that he almost seemed like the man that he once was. He even commissioned a beautiful sword for her sixteenth birthday.

Sighing softly as her mind drifts back toward distressing things, Marianne shakes her head to dispel the sorrow. There's nothing she can do now. It's a good thing that she didn't unhitch her trailer from her truck when they arrived at the Light Field Circus' circus grounds last night and didn't feel the need to when she left this morning.

Who knew that being lazy could save a person a lot of hassle? Just because she didn't want to put all those plans in her truck, she prevented herself from being forced to face everyone back at the Light Field Circus after they eloquently told her their opinion of her. It's doubly good that her trailer isn't registered as circus property because that would have been a pain to replace.

However, there is still the problem of the other things that she owns that she doesn't have stored in her trailer. Not to mention, she's going to have to talk to Roland, on Monday at the latest, to discuss the arrangements for Dawn and the other circus fleas. Marianne groans slightly and rubs her forehead. Just thinking about that is giving her the beginnings of a headache.

'Everything else can be figured out later, just enjoy the show,' she chides herself. Looking around toward the others waiting backstage, she notices someone missing and quickly scans the faces once more.

"Anyone seen Yemma?" Marianne asks.

"Not since she and Greg got back about an hour ago," Griselda murmurs. "I'll go..."

"Here I am," Yemma calls, walking in through the back entrance.

Marianne doesn't need to see the fretting Greg walking behind Yemma to know that something is wrong. The fae-touched woman's pale sea-green skin is a little paler than when Marianne had seen her an hour ago and she acts as if she has the flu as she sniffles repeatedly. Then there are the bright red bumps dotted around her mouth.

"Should you even be out of bed?" Marianne questions briskly.

"No, she shouldn't! Yemma had eaten one of the cinnamon rolls but the batch was accidentally contaminated by a new worker at the bakery and now she won't listen to me," Greg explains, glaring at his glaring wife.

"I'm fine," Yemma stresses. "It's just a mild reaction and not enough to stop me from performing."

"Griselda?" Marianne asks as the couple keeps arguing.

"Yemma has a mild allergy to eating anything with peanuts," Griselda answers. "Nothing too serious but she's usually nauseous for several hours."

"Meaning that she shouldn't be twenty-two feet in the air in front of a waiting audience," Marianne comments.

"I'm fine!" Yemma insists. "It's just a short performance. Plus, it's the closing act and I can't disappoint Bog again."

"I'm quite sure that Bog would be more than disappointed if you performed while sick, especially if you get hurt," Marianne remarks, getting a guilty look. "Who's available that can do the closing act?"

"Unfortunately, no one," Griselda sighs. "All those that can perform have already performed and it wouldn't be the same anyhow. We had advertised a new performer's debut year in all the posters, putting a lot of hype into it."

"Bog is going to be so embarrassed," Thang moans, covering his eyes with his webbed hands.

The echoing sentiments wrench at Marianne's heart as she turns her attention to the sitting man. She couldn't very well let Yemma perform while she is sick. That would only be a disaster and she's sure that Bog would agree. Yes, the show must go on but never at the expense of a person's life or dignity. However, there's also the problem at hand. With no one to cover for the grand finale, Bog is going to look like a fool when he has to explain to the crowd that the moment that they're waiting for isn't going to happen.

"I can try," Yemma starts.

"Absolutely, not!" Griselda interrupts. "Bog is just going to have to explain that the closing act had to be canceled due to an allergic reaction. I'm sure they will understand and accept a fill-in."

"We could try to get BK to fill in," Stuff suggests, her brown eyes looking more cat-like than reptile-like with her smirk. "It has been a while since he performed publicly and if we get the crowd chanting loud enough, he'll have no choice."

"But he doesn't have anyone to fight," Thang points out.

The groans of disappointment don't help the tense atmosphere and the group starts naming prospective opponents before rejecting each one for various reasons. Marianne's right hand twitches as an idea takes firm root in her mind. It would only be once and Bog has done so much for her, she can't let him down when she has a chance to help.

"How are we going to inform Bog of any of this?" Marianne asks.

"That's easy. We have a tried and true method of keeping the crowd from realizing that there are problems while at the same time alerting the ringmaster...Stuff and Thang," Griselda explains, pointing to the two fae-touched. "They don't do any performing themselves but they act as messengers that appear to be a part of the routines. If the problem can be solved from there, then Stuff informs the situation to everyone, but if the problem requires the ringmaster to leave to backstage, then Thang gives a mixed-up message that causes the audience to laugh when the ringmaster gets angry at the confusion and storms backstage in a fake rage."

"I got an idea that might work," Marianne announces.

Marianne explains her plan and gets Griselda's enthusiastic approval before running quickly toward her trailer. The kaleidoscope of butterflies fighting in her stomach is pitiful compared to the swarm of bees flowing through her veins. She swallows down her anxiety as she frees her precious prize from its locked cabinet and runs back to the big top with it firmly in her grasp.

Freezing seconds before entering the big top's back entrance, her breathing slightly erratic, Marianne grabs her pendant in an attempt to calm herself as the bees morph into driver ants and the butterflies become warring bombardier beetles. Familiar voices voice their dire warnings as she stares into the darkened doorway, the memories cascading in her mind with relentless ferocity. Slowly, her breathing returns to normal and the voices are pushed back into the corners of her mind as she rubs the amethyst dragonfly with one hand and grips the black leather-wrapped wood grip with her other hand.

"It's just once," she murmurs aloud. "Only a small performance. No big deal."

Slightly unsheathing the carbon steel bastard sword from its black leather-wrapped wooden scabbard, Marianne stares into the reflection that is illuminated by the bright full moon on the polished blade and she traces the intricate golden lines decorating the crossguard and parts of the blade. 'You can do this,' she encourages her reflection, her amber eyes narrowing in determination. The scent stopper pommel gleams as she sheathes the sword and quickly attaches the black leather sword belt around her waist.

No backing out now.

* * *

Bog tries very hard to keep from smiling broadly, as it would ruin his surly character, after all. It is just hard not to be giddy, though. There hasn't been one mishap since the big top opened and everything has run smoothly. Even the teenagers managed to get to their places in time for their performances, a definite miracle from God! They usually get so caught up in the show that they forget that they're a part of it until he begins to announce their act and they scramble to get to their places. Not that he blamed them because he did it himself when he was their age.

Only one act to go and they'll close on the best show they've done since he became the owner and ringmaster. Then they can get to the surprise he has planned for their newest member and with any luck, give enough good memories to outweigh the bad memories of today. It won't fix everything but it will at least show her that they are all there for her.

Glancing back toward the backstage curtains, his frown becomes more real as he notices Marianne missing from the spot that she's been in since the big top opened. Maybe she is helping Yemma get ready. That's understandable if that is the case. No doubt that Yemma might be getting nervous the closer they get to her debut as a performer. Not even working around the grounds and interacting with the people can prepare a person for actually performing in front of everybody in the big top.

'Oh, no,' Bog groans silently as Stuff and Thang run toward him once the present act finishes. Their presence could only mean that something had gone wrong. He takes a deep breath and readies himself for the routine.

"News from the border, Sire!" Stuff announces loudly before stage whispering to Thang. "You tell him."

"Huh? No, you tell him!" Thang protests.

"Well?" Bog asks.

"You tell him. He likes you better," Stuff insists.

"Really?" Thang questions hopefully.

"I'm waiting," Bog grumbles, trying not to smile as the audience starts to laugh.

"A tall chef is into shark storage!" Thang announces happily, ignoring the riotous laughing.

"What?" Bog deadpans.

"You know how we sometimes have a shark but no place to store it," Thang explains blithely. "Well, a very tall chef...has...the...very...same...problem. That doesn't make any sense."

Covering his face is less for the appearance of anger and more for trying not to join the audience in their laughter. That had to be the worst they've ever come up with since they started using the pair like this. Even Stuff looks hardpressed to not crack up and that woman could go to a comedy convention and not even snicker.

"I'll deal with it!" Bog growls, his suppressed laughter turning the sound harsh.

Storming to the backstage quickly is easy because he is sure that he can't hold back his amusement much longer. A real concern as Stuff and Thang continue the routine to keep the crowd occupied as he steps past the curtain.

"You said he likes me but he always gets mad at me!" Thang whines.

"You didn't say the message right," Stuff scolds.

"Then you should have said it," Thang comments.

"It wasn't my turn to say it," Stuff protests.

"Yes, it was," Thang argues.

"I told him that there was news. Therefore, it was your turn to say the message," Stuff explains.

"Oh, well, I guess you're right," Thang concedes.

"Of course I am," Stuff comments, smirking toward the laughing audience and wagging her eyebrows.

* * *

"What happened?" Bog questions as soon as he's past the curtains.

"Yemma is sick," Greg answers, covering his wife's mouth. "A cinnamon roll from the bakery was contaminated by peanut butter and now she's insisting that she can perform."

"Absolutely not! Go back to bed, Yemma. Carry her back if ye have to, Greg," Bog orders the non-fae-touched man. "I'll just tell the audience that the final act is canceled."

"No need for that, Bog. We came up with a great back-up plan. You'll do the final act," Griselda informs.

"What! Mom, I haven't performed in three years," Bog points out. "Besides, no one else is prepared to do a fighting routine."

"Marianne didn't fill me on all the details but she's going to be your opponent," Griselda comments.

Bog listens patiently as his mother explains what Marianne told her. The improvision is a good idea. It would work to keep the audience satisfied and should be enough to appease them for the loss of the promised performance.

Giving orders to get the after-show surprise ready, Bog quickly strides back into the big top as Stuff and Thang's routine winds down. Hopefully, Marianne had enough time to get ready but he'll stall as long as he can. They only need to amuse the crowd for a short time.  
Bog shakes his thoughts away as he reaches his bone throne and turns to address the waiting people. He resists the urge to kiss the honey amber butterfly for good luck and twirls his staff instead, the weighty steel calming his restless energy.

"To clear the confusion, there is no tall chef into shark storage," Bog announces, trying to keep his scowl at the whimpering Thang when all he wants to do is laugh with the audience. "There is an intruder in the Dark Forest! It seems..."

The darkness is so unexpected that even Bog jumps as nearly all the lights turn off. He looks around for Imp and quickly spots his long white-furred ears at the lighting and sound booth. The white-furred man grins and stealthily points to a figure making their way from his position, completely obscured by the dark atmosphere.

Understanding the hint, Bog takes his seat on his throne and waits for Marianne's cue. He and his father may have had a rule to never not give it their all during a routine but he's sure his dad won't mind if he breaks it this time. He'd hate to embarrass Marianne in front of everyone by defeating her too quickly, especially since she's only doing this to help them.

It takes all his willpower not to jump as the spotlight over him turns on or as the sound of a guitar rings through the speakers. He barely manages not to break his character as the second spotlight focuses on Marianne walking steadily on the high-wire as the music's tempo becomes faster and more instruments are added. Bog can't place the song at the moment and he's not sure why Marianne is on the high-wire when she said that she was going to duel him. It's also unclear if his racing heart is because there isn't any safety net since Yemma's performance was canceled or if it's just because of how beautiful Marianne's voice is as she starts singing.

_**"There's no way, I'm gonna sit this one out! Gotta take a chance now-"** _

He gasps along with the crowd as Marianne walks off the tightrope and catches the wire at the last minute, swinging herself around it with ease, the light catching something shiny beneath her duster.

**_"Not be a prisoner of doubt! Gonna knock down the wailin' wall, it ain't no sin!"_ **

She releases her hold on the wire on the second swing, flying upward with the momentum and twirling and twisting before grabbing the wire again on her fall. Unlike her routine this morning, though, Marianne swings herself back onto the wire on the next swing.

**_"I got the feeling of fortune, deal me in!"_ **

Bog barely notices Marianne untying the belt of her amethyst black-trimmed duster or as the fabric starts sliding off her arms and fluttering to the ground below, his attention is solely focused on the amber eyes gleaming at him. His mind slightly registers as she pulls the long sword from the scabbard at her hip and...'Why is she wearing a cape?'

**_"I'm comin' straight on for you!"_ **

His gasp accompanies the gasps and small screams from everyone watching as Marianne dives off the tightrope toward him but before he can ready himself to catch her, amethyst and black butterfly-like wings snap open and he barely manages to bring his staff up in time to block her attack.

**_"I made up my mind!"_ **

Bog pushes against Marianne's sword and forces her back, her wings keeping her aloft. He quickly stands to his feet and spins out of the way of another attack, keeping the unusual chair between the two of them as he tries to get his bearings.

**_"I'm feeling strong now, now I'm comin' through!"_ **

He can't help the breathy "whoa" as the sharp blade embeds itself into the wooden chair backing nearby his head. A small random thought about how idiotic he must look with his mouth wide open crosses his mind just before Stuff and Thang appear next to him.

"Ask him, he'll appreciate it," Stuff insists to Thang.

"Need any help, Sire?" Thang questions loudly.

Right...they're in the middle of a performance and he's totally ruining his big-and-bad image by mooning over his attacker. He smirks toward the pair, conveniently positioned in front of the audience, and without looking, slams his staff against Marianne's blade as she wrenches it free.

"No," he scoffs.

* * *

_**"Straight on, straight on for you!"** _

Marianne breathes a mental sigh of relief as Bog dodges her next blow and uses the throne to propel him past her and into the air. She was beginning to get worried at his lack of response, other than being in shock that is. It's a good thing Griselda sent Stuff and Thang back out. Not only did it seem to snap Bog out of his stupor but it gave the audience a good laugh as well.

She quickly flies after Bog and tries for another attack, only for him to use her momentum to force them to rapidly spin around each other several times. Getting his hint as he nods nearly imperceptively toward the trapeze swings, Marianne lands on top of one as he lands on the other.

**_"Straight on for you!"_ **

Their weapons cross several more times as the swings force them together before Bog uses his long legs to push her swing away. Marianne jumps off with the backward momentum and pushes her legs against one of the support pillars to propel her quicker back to Bog with her blade's point positioned threateningly in front of her.

"Impressive," Bog praises, giving a pointed look to the trapeze's wire as he evades her next attacks.

That's right. Bog had mentioned that they would be replacing those wires before starting in the next city. Might as well give it a memorable death. The sharp blade slices through the wires neatly after Bog flies backward off the swing and they both give a small chuckle as Stuff and Thang yell and scramble out of the way as the metal pole falls to the ground. So much for Bog being the only one too distracted to pay attention.

She lets the music keep playing by itself without singing the words as they circle each other before crossing weapons again. Most of the song's words were inappropriate for the present use and best left alone. It was about finding love, after all. But the beat is perfect for a fast-paced duel.

"Had enough?" Marianne questions as they push against each other, blowing a stray hair out of her face.

"I could do this all day," Bog croons, mimicking her by blowing onto his own hair before pushing her back.

Marianne blinks as she notices that he lost his pork pie hat somewhere between now and when they started. Looking around she spots it with Thang, while Stuff has possession of her duster. So that explains why the pair was loitering beneath their ariel battleground.

Feeling an ache in her wings from their lack of use, she pointedly looks down as she and Bog cross weapons again. He takes the hint and drops to the ground with her following after. Their blows become stronger now that they're on solid ground and she takes a position on top of one of the platforms, growling as he manages to cause her sword to go flying upward.

Bog's genuine smug look is soon replaced by frustration as she grabs his quarterstaff and pulls him off-balance before kicking him in the chest and sending him backward. She quickly catches her falling sword and points it at Bog's neck, relishing in his stunned expression.

"Looks like you could use some help," Thang comments nearby.

"No!" Bog growls, knocking the sword away.

Neither pair acknowledge the crowd's laughter or their chanting as they spin furiously around one another trying to land blows that are always blocked by their opponent. Attack after attack, each blow stronger than the last and sparking light as the steel weapons cross. Marianne can't help her own laughter as she feels the power behind Bog's attacks leveling off. 'He really thought that I wouldn't have felt him holding back on me? Well, I must have impressed him if he's using full strength now,' she muses, widely grinning as she flies backward to avoid a double blow from his staff.

"Is that all you got?" she asks with laughter.

**_"Now, I know, how to play my hand!"_ **

He knows the song! Marianne resists the urge to swoon as Bog starts singing and twirling his staff in a flashy style, blocking her attacks with flair.

"Well, I'm ready for you," Marianne calls.

**_"What the winner don't know, the gambler understands!"_ **

She's sure that she hears squeals coming from the crowd as Bog shows off, something she has to hold back herself. Griselda's comment of his relationship status rears its head in her mind at the same time as several VERY inappropriate ideas flash through her imagination. She is not susceptible to that stupid trope about secretaries!

**_"No! You don't stand a chance!" "Ye don't stand a chance!"_ **

Marianne quickly shakes off her stupor and flies towards Bog once more as both their voices ring out together. Twirling around each other.

**_"I'm comin' straight on for you!" "Straight on for ye!"_ **

Their blades clash with equal vigor, sparks flying as they give it their best. Other kinds of sparks fly as their weapons are joined over their heads and cause them to stand very close to one another. If she thought his too-blue-to-be-true eyes were illegal, that doesn't have any comparison to his lips as they pucker to purr the last word. This close is too dangerous.

**_"I made up my mind!"_ **

Pushing him back once more, Marianne ignores the temptation to give in and continues the song. They are performing, in front of a very large audience, and this is no time to give into teenage hormones. At least there won't be any photographic evidence.

**_"I'm feeling strong now, now I'm comin' through!"_ **

Now it's her turn to show-off as she blocks his attacks solely with her right hand and carelessly looks at the nails on her left hand.

"Something wrong?" Bog growls.

"Oh, I was just expecting...more," Marianne purrs, raising her eyebrow at him.

**_"Straight on, straight on for you!" "Straight on for ye!"_ **

Even Stuff and Thang can't keep their laughter quiet at Bog's genuinely affronted look, though they quickly cover their mouths as Bog charges toward her and joining her singing with his own.

**_"Straight on, straight on for you!" "Straight on for ye!"_ **

Their battle takes them into the air once more, this time both of them needing to use the support pillar's assistance as they fly higher and higher toward the big top's uttermost rigging.

**_"Straight on, straight on for you!" "Straight on for ye!"_ **

Their voices ring out together, exhaustion lacing in their words and movements. Blows become sloppy with neither being able to connect a hit and their tired wings force them downwards. The pair drop to land on their feet facing their opponent with their weapons lowered in fatigue as the music ends.

* * *

Bog struggles to catch his breath. He can't blame it on being out of shape. The same applied to Marianne, as she too tries to gather air back into her lungs. No duel with his father ever pushed him this far and here he thought that he had to go easy on Marianne. He really hopes that wasn't her going easy on him or he is definitely in trouble.

He blinks in shock as Marianne wearily raises her sword's tip against his throat and smirks...then the lights go out again. He needs to have a talk with Imp about whose side he's on.

The crowd's enthusiastic praise brings him back to reality and he straightens his posture, using his staff for support for his aching muscles. He notices Marianne's shadowy figure trying to leave and he reaches out to grab her hand before nodding towards Imp.

"I take it that ye like our little surprise?" Bog questions loudly to the stands as the lights turn back on.

Yells, clapping, whistling, and stomping answer him and Bog grins at the adoring visitors. Marianne's tight grip on his hand causes him to glance sideways at her and he furrows his brows in confusion. That is unexpected. Instead of basking in the obvious delight of their performance, Marianne seems almost petrified with her wings held tightly against her back. 'Maybe it's been too much for her for today,' he muses. 'Better finish this quickly then.'

"We are very honored by yer enthusiastic praise," Bog comments, stepping away from Marianne and turning slightly to her while holding her hand higher. "And now, I'd like ye to join us in wishing the newest member of the Dark Forest Circus a happy birthday. On the count of three. One, two, three..."

"Happy birthday!"

He had expected some shock but the amount of shock on Marianne's face and the tears gathering in her eyes nearly brings tears to his own eyes. Is it so shocking for him to acknowledge her birthday? He did this for everyone's birthday if it fell on a circus day, as did the last few ringmasters. Sure, he hadn't actually planned to bring Marianne out or even mention her name since she didn't want those in the Light Field Circus to know where she is just yet, but he had fully intended to announce it.

Bog grunts as Marianne slams into him, wrapping her arms around his neck and hugging him to her. All he sees is amethyst and black wings blocking his view of the audience but before he overcomes his own shock and returns the embrace, Marianne pulls back and flies through the backstage curtains.

Again, the random thought of how idiotic he must look with his mouth wide open, his arms still held out from when Marianne hugged him, and dumbly staring where she had retreated to, crosses his mind just before Thang appears next to him holding out his pork pie hat.

"Need any help?" Thang questions, smirking up at the stunned man.

"No," Bog sighs roughly, ignoring the laughing audience and placing the hat back on his head. "God granted many gifts to men. Understanding women was not one of them."


	4. Day One - Night

"That was perfect," Yemma chuckles before groaning and hugging her stomach.

"Why aren't ye in bed?" Bog asks.

"She insisted on seeing the show and I wanted to see it myself as well, so I gave her a few more minutes," Greg explains with a grin. "Good thing, too, because that was some performance."

Bog ignores the pointed look from the pair and repeats his order for Yemma to go back to bed, this time being obeyed but not without another hinted remark about how great he and Marianne were together. Really? They're just as bad as his mother! He dreads finding out what the older woman managed to say to Marianne before she left to bid the crowds farewell. Speaking of...

"Where is Marianne?" Bog questions.

"Left as soon as she got back here," Stuff answers casually. "Said she was gonna put her sword away."

If he was any other person and not someone who's been close to Stuff for several years, then he would have missed the underlying tenseness to her voice. Stuff only has two settings, blunt and very blunt. She didn't do delicate. Ever. Unless it revolves around a certain subject that still pained the fae-touched woman no matter how many years she's been away from that dreadful place.

"I was hoping that it was just because of tiredness or stage-fright," Bog mutters, rubbing his neck.

"I don't know what it was but she actually looked scared to me," Stuff murmurs. "Marianne grabbed her coat and put it on as soon as she caught up with me, picked up the things that she had taken out of her pocket and then left soon after."

"I'll go talk to her. Get everything set up in the big top once all the visitors leave," Bog orders.

The remaining workers in the backstage quickly get to work as he takes long strides toward where Marianne's trailer is parked. His wings twitch with the temptation to get there quicker but he holds back, figuring that he'd give her time to compose herself if she's upset.

Here he was planning on giving her a good end to her birthday and he probably just made it worse. He should have just let her go when she tried to leave while the lights were off. He knew that she didn't want anyone to recognize her and he selfishly ignored it. 'Stupid, stupid, stupid! I'm so stupid!' Bog berates himself.

"Are you okay, Bog?" Marianne asks.

Blinking away his thoughts, Bog can feel the blush creeping through his face as he notices that he almost passed by Marianne. He clears his throat and shifts his staff restlessly.

"Fine...I mean, I'm good," he murmurs. "Are ye okay? Ye left in a big hurry."

"I'm good, too," Marianne chuckles. "I figured that I better put my sword away before someone decides to get curious about how sharp it is. If you don't need my help anymore then I'm heading over to the circus flea tent because I promised the kids that I'd help with their bathtime and give them a story before bed."

"Actually, I need ye to come back to the big top," Bog comments.

"Please tell me that nothing else went wrong," she groans.

"No, no, it's just that ye haven't had yer birthday cake yet and...," he starts.

"Cake?" Marianne interrupts. "You got me a cake as well?"

"Yes? I mean, yes. Yes, we got ye a cake," Bog states. "It is yer birthday after all and..."

Bog grunts as Marianne slams into him again, though this time he wraps his arms around her waist as her arms go around his chest. The fabric against his hands reminds him of what he wanted to talk to her about when he came searching for her.

"Thank you!" Marianne murmurs waterly, interrupting his thoughts. "No one has ever done anything like this for me."

"No...no one?" Bog repeats. "Don't ye celebrate birthdays over at the Light Field Circus?"

"We do but...well, with my birthday usually falling on or near the first opening day, everyone just kinda forgets it until later," she mutters.

"Everyone just forgets it? They're more idiotic than I thought," he growls.

* * *

Marianne giggles as Bog's growl reverberates against her and his whiskers tickle her neck. First, he announced her birthday in front of everyone and now, he even got her a birthday cake! It's been so long since she's been this happy. 'He's just incredible,' she muses with a sigh, cuddling into his embrace more.

Reluctantly, she pulls away from him, only to be stopped short because her pendant had tangled around his own pendant. A few experimental tugs reveal that they are stuck tight and trying to wiggle her hand in to untangle the ornaments only results in tickling both prisoners.

"I think we have a problem," she groans, mere inches away from Bog's throat.

"Try taking off one of our necklaces while I hold ye up," Bog suggests.

Being this close is quite the dilemma and no matter how hard Marianne tries, she can get neither necklace clasp unlatched. She reluctantly tells Bog the news and lays her head on his shoulder.

"Only one thing to do then," he groans. "Hold on."

There is a huge difference between flying on your own and someone else flying you, or so Marianne will swear to for being the reason for clinging tighter to Bog when he takes to the air with her still in his arms. Even when her wings were covered, she was never afraid of flying through the air but this is different, this trusting-someone-else-to-guide-you-and-carry-you thing. She isn't afraid...at least, she doesn't think she is.

How long has it been since someone else was taking care of her and not the other way around? Sure, she knows the exact number of years since her official thrust into adulthood but she was independent even before her mother's death, the events afterward kinda proved that. 'Who knows but this feels nice,' she hums, turning her head into Bog's throat and grinning as he gulps.

This is what she wanted from Roland, isn't it? This thing where she can rely on someone else and where she doesn't have to make all the decisions herself. Someone stable and confident and doesn't have more baggage than an airport. Someone completely unlike her.

So why does it feel so different with Bog? It feels like she wants something more from him than just someone to be there and she wants him to want the same something from her. She's no stranger to lust, even if she was too busy to take a taste of it like the other girls twittered about, but this didn't feel completely like that. It just feels different.

Maybe she should just blame it on everything that happened today and ignore it. Yeah, that might be for the best. It'd be terrible to mess this up.

Marianne shakes off her thoughts and looks around as Bog lands. She really hopes he isn't planning on walking into the big top tent with her hanging onto him like this.

"Mom!" Bog calls.

"Ahh, the sound of my son when he's gotten into more trouble than he bargained for," Griselda laughs, walking out of the tent. "What happ...OHHHH!"

"Don't jump to conclusions!" Bog warns at the grin spreading across his mother's face. "It's not what ye're thinking! We're stuck."

"That's not helping me not to jump to conclusions," Griselda chuckles. "What exactly were you two up to when you got stuck?"

"Uh...well...uh, ye see...um," Bog stammers, clearing his throat a few times.

"I had given him a hug to thank him and our necklaces got tangled," Marianne explains, keeping her red face buried into his shoulder. "I can't untangle them or get them unclasped."

"Not to point out the obvious but there is no way for me to help while Bog is standing up," Griselda comments.

The elder woman's unholy glee at this turn of events does not help Marianne's embarrassment, even as she obeys Bog's strained instructions to wrap her legs around his waist so that he can sit down. At least Griselda has mercy on the pair and quickly sets to work unclasping the necklaces...as quickly as her complaints of not being able to see well in the dark let her.

Marianne desperately tries to keep her mind off the fact that she is sitting in an intimate and provocative position. A feat that doesn't work well and is severely testing her earlier resolve. She stomps down the desire to squirm even as her wings beg to twitch under their bindings. It doesn't help that she has a clear view of Bog's wings, their twitching showing his agitation and throwing prisms of color around the area as the moonlight reflects off them.

Maybe it wouldn't be such a bad idea to at least see where these feelings lead to.

* * *

Bog grinds his teeth as his mother takes her sweet time taking off his necklace after giving up on Marianne's. Surely, she knows how inappropriate this is! He just met the woman, for heaven's sake! Not even his mother would deliberately torture him like this.

He holds his breath in an effort to stop the growing moan that wants to break forth. Trying to not concentrate on the soft warm body within his arms does absolutely no good and all he can think is how good it feels to have her trapped against him. 'I'm so horrible,' he groans silently.

"There! All done," Griselda announces.

Quickly the pair separates and Bog ignores his mother's knowing grin as he makes sure his black slacks are loose near the front while Marianne's attention is off him. It was only a miracle she didn't feel anything or he is sure that she probably would have punched him.

"Uh, Griselda, why did you take off both necklaces?" Marianne questions.

Bog gapes as he realizes that yes, yes his mother would deliberately torture him. For in her hands are both necklaces. He doesn't bother waiting for whatever excuse she is planning on making and instead grabs Marianne's hand and pulls her into the big top.

He nods in satisfaction at everything prepared and grins at Marianne's soft exclamation at the three three-tiered cakes adorning the large table placed in the center ring in front of the bone throne. He's glad the bakery completed the order even though it was short notice and they did a fantastic job on the cakes. The stained glass pattern on the cakes is beautiful with purple butterflies circling the bottom tier, red roses and white daisies circling the middle tier, and yellow dragonflies circling the top tier. Figuring out why Plum ordered what she did for the design when he gave her the task of ordering the cake this morning after discovering Marianne's date of birth is more of a headache than it's worth but it doesn't stop him from being impressed by the crazy woman's idea.

Or the other crazy woman as his mother strides up next to him with the necklaces untangled and handing them over to the pair. Bog huffs at her sly grin as he puts his necklace back on. Fine. He loves his mother. He just wishes that she wasn't so...much.

"The bakery did such a great job," Griselda remarks.

"It might be stupid to ask but why three cakes?" Marianne asks.

"One is chocolate, one is vanilla, and the other is a marble. That way everyone gets a taste they like because no one here is going to pass an excuse for sweets," Griselda quips. "We usually just have a great big party with everyone at the start of the month for those with birthdays in that month but since you weren't with us for this month's party, we'll celebrate it now. So, let's cut the cake and eat."

Bog grins as Marianne happily joins the others, looking for all the world that she had gotten the greatest birthday present ever. Guess they managed to give her good memories for her eighteenth birthday, after all.

* * *

"Bog!"

Bog groans as he looks up from his half-eaten second slice of marble cake. He smirks slightly at the echoing groan from beside him before turning his attention to the big top's entrance just as Fang runs in. The fae-touched man wastes no time and quickly makes his way to the bone throne where Bog is sitting.

"What's the problem, Fang?" Bog asks.

"We...we're sold...sold out," Fang pants, his soft beak-like mouth open to catch his breath. "Every tick...ticket. To...tomorrow and...Sunday."

"What!" Bog gasps.

"That's great! I don't see that as a problem," Marianne remarks, jumping off from her place on the bone throne's armrest.

"It's a very big problem!" Bog groans.

He can feel himself panicking as he mulls over the news. How is he going to fix this? There isn't a way. They were doomed! He is going to fail his forefathers and be the reason the Dark Forest Circus closes!

Bog gasps as Marianne grabs his face between both her hands and forces him to look at her.

"Breathe deep relaxing breaths," Marianne orders, smiling as he obeys. "Now, what's the problem?"

"Selling out our tickets means that we've reached our maximum limit for people, something that we've never done before. Which means that we don't have enough supplies," Bog explains. "We only haul around enough supplies to last us for each city and since we based the estimate on our best sales, it's just not enough even with the extra we add to it. We'll sell out most of our stuff by tomorrow."

"It's not a problem at all," Marianne assures.

"It is a problem," Bog insists. "Our supplier is a two-day trip away and they hate unexpected orders."

"This is why you have me, Mr Kingly," Marianne smirks.

"Bog," Bog corrects, chuckling at her wink. "So what do ye have in mind?"

"My supplier is only four hours away and he'll do whatever I ask," Marianne explains before turning to the waiting people. "Listen up! Booth workers and vendors, I need inventory of everything that you have left and everything that you sold today and I need it all done in one hour. Then I need those numbers doubled and then double it twice again. Don't worry about having too much."

More than half of the workers quickly rush out the big top to obey the order, causing Bog to chuckle and smirk at the standing woman. 'And those fools thought that she didn't have what it takes to run a circus,' he muses, finishing his cake.

"I need an empty enclosed trailer, big enough to haul everything, ready and hitched to my truck," Marianne continues, throwing her keys to Stuff. "Those seventeen and under, bathtime! Everyone else, if you don't have an immediate job to do, then please assist those getting inventory done."

Bog gets up to help Marianne and Griselda usher all the kids to their designated destination, grabbing the shirts of several teens and ignoring their protests and insistence at helping. They may have a point about needing the extra help but the only job they're getting is getting ready for bed.

A job made much easier by the public shower building that the city put in several decades ago. Of course, that doesn't mean to say that it's easy.

"Why do big kids get to bathe themselves?" Brutus grumbles.

"Because they're big kids," Bog answers patiently, ignoring his mother and Marianne's snickering on the other side of the partition.

Bog has to hold back his own laughter as he dutifully scrubs the disgruntled five-year-old before lifting him out of the portable bathtub and rinsing him down with the handheld showerhead. Wrapping him in a nearby towel, he hands Brutus over to Alan, the seventeen-year-old already finished with his own shower, before grabbing four-year-old Alex and placing him in the soapy water.

"Sara, Lexi, you two are not done yet," Griselda scolds. "Teeth brushed now."

Alex laughs at his older sisters' complaints and at Bog's groan as his front gets covered in water. Good thing he changed out of his ringmaster uniform while the kids fetched their bedclothes and experience had taught him to always carry a change of clothes.

* * *

"That's the last of them," Griselda announces, emptying the girls' portable tub. "Thanks for your help, Marianne. With everyone busy getting the inventory compiled, this would have taken forever."

"No problem," Marianne reassures, gathering up the laundry basket full of used towels. "Are you boys all done as well?"

"Aye!" Bog calls.

As they usher the sleepy children back to the nearby circus flea tent, Marianne smiles over toward Bog, his arms full with a sleepy Brutus, whose each yawn sets a cycle off to the other children. Even the teenagers are hard-pressed to stay awake and moan happily once they make it inside the heated tent.

"Got everything done," Stuff murmurs, entering in after them and handing the truck keys back. "They're just double-checking their figures, just in case. They should be ready in a few more minutes."

"Good, I'll...," Marianne starts.

"Story!" Brutus demands.

Like lightning, the tiredness seems to evaporate at the mention and the other young kids echo the remembered promise.

"It's late and I have a long trip ahead of me. How about I tell a story tomorrow?" Marianne tries.

"Story! Story! Story! Story!"

Marianne sighs at the order and helps Bog and Griselda tuck the circus fleas into their cots before sitting down with the circus monkeys waiting for their parents to arrive.

"Alright but it's gonna have to be short and it might not be much of a story," Marianne warns. "In a far off land, in a great dark forest, there lives a kingdom of goblins. These goblins are tough, strong, brave, and very clever. They took care of their forest and kept it clear of the dreaded lovey-dovey flowers. They also guard their home against the nearby kingdom, a kingdom of fluttery fairies who thought the forest was scary. They weren't alone in their quest, for they had a king. The toughest, strongest, bravest, and most clever goblin of them all, the Goblin King."

Marianne pauses to hush the children as they start cheering but it's nearly a lost cause until Bog calls for them to be quiet. The results are instantaneous except for a few giggles. 'They clearly love their Goblin King,' she chuckles silently.

"Yes, the Goblin King was very great but he was also very evil," Marianne continues, ignoring Bog's offended look. "Or so it was said by their neighbors, the field where the kingdom of fairies lives. They loved their field where so many pretty flowers grew but they were unhappy because the lovey-dovey flowers only grew in the forest and the lovey-dovey flowers were the most beautiful flowers of all. Therefore, they decided that the Goblin King was bad because he hated the lovey-dovey flowers."

"Boo lovey-dovey flowers," Alan comments, causing several kids to laugh.

"One fairy decided to go to the forest to talk to the Goblin King, convinced that he was just a bragger and a bully. But as she entered the goblin's kingdom, she discovered much worse," Marianne murmurs. "She realized just how evil the Goblin King really is and all his evil deeds. His worst and most evilest was...oh no, I just can't say it, it's just too bad."

"What is it?" "Come on!" "Don't stop now!"

"Well, if you insist, but don't say I didn't warn you," Marianne sighs. "The Goblin King's most evilest act was that he made all the little goblins...go to bed."

"NO!"

Marianne cackles at the resounding protests and lifts herself off the ground as several workers enter the tent to pick-up their kids, their snickers evidence of their eavesdropping. She motions for Griselda to stay in her rocking chair and goes to help Bog put up the dividing screens herself. The sleepy "goodnights" as they partition off the circus fleas' beds from the rest of the tent inform her that she's forgiven for her sneaky trick, even though Brutus demands that she give another story tomorrow to make up for it.

"Jazz dropped this off when she picked-up Fiona," Griselda murmurs, handing Marianne the inventory sheets. "She said that they're sure that is enough to last until Monday with plenty left-over."

"Everything looks good and I'm positive that Chester has all this in stock," Marianne comments. "If I leave now, then I should be at his warehouse before the sun rises."

"Ye should take someone with ye," Bog mentions.

"Can't. I'm not sure if I'll be able to make it back before noon and you're going to need everyone here tomorrow," Marianne remarks. "I'm expendable."

* * *

Bog holds back the growl that wants to break forth at her declaring herself expendable. If he ever gets ahold of one of those Light Field Circus traitors then he'll make them regret devaluing Marianne. If anything, those fools are the expendable ones.

"Bah! You're not expendable!" Griselda protests softly.

"You know what I mean," Marianne mutters. "You don't need me here to wow the visitors, so my absence won't make a difference if I don't make it back in time."

"Well, just make sure you're not too late getting back," Griselda murmurs. "You need to get a few hours of sleep if you're going to fight Bog again tomorrow."

"What! That was just to fill-in for Yemma since she was sick and she'll be fine tomorrow," Marianne comments hastily.

"Nonsense. Yemma already said that you can take the final act," Griselda explains. "The crowds were just amazed by your fight and it'll be a shame not to do it again. In fact..."

Bog waves off his mother's words and gently wraps his hand around Marianne's hand that is rubbing her pendant. He's worried that she seemed to panic at the suggestion of her performing again and he isn't about to force her to do something that makes her uncomfortable.

"It's alright," he reassures. "Ye don't have to perform if ye don't want to."

"You're not flying again?" Brutus questions sadly, grabbing Marianne's other hand.

"Brutus, ye should be in bed," Bog scolds.

"But...," Brutus starts.

"Back to bed," Bog orders. "If Miss Marianne doesn't like performing than she doesn't have to. We don't want Miss Marianne to be unhappy, do we?"

"No," Brutus sighs.

Moving to pick the child up, Bog blinks as Marianne picks Brutus up first and the child lays his head against her shoulder. That's odd. Brutus never let anyone hold him except him, not even Griselda. But here he is, letting Marianne carry him back to his cot.

The sad gazes from the other children as he follows Marianne back to the partitioned area make Bog wince. Obviously, they all enjoyed the impromptu performance and was disappointed that it won't be repeated. Maybe he could talk to Marianne about having a private show for the kids every so often.

"Go on to sleep and I'll see you all tomorrow after I get back. After I sleep for a few hours," Marianne murmurs after tucking Brutus back into his bed. "I'll need some sleep if I'm gonna beat Mr Bog in the big top again tomorrow."

"Who says that I'm losing next time?" Bog scoffs playfully.

"I say, because you will," Marianne states, winking at the grinning kids before bidding them goodnight.

Giving his own goodnight, first to the kids and then to his mother as she settles herself into her own cot, Bog turns the light down to its dimmest setting before following Marianne out of the circus flea tent. He falls in step with her as she heads toward her trailer.

"Ye don't have to perform if ye don't want to," Bog repeats softly. "Don't do this just because the kids want it."

"I'm not...okay, maybe just a little," Marianne amends as the moon illuminates his skeptical look. "But just because I've never performed before, that doesn't mean that I've never wanted to perform. I...uh...just didn't get the chance before."

He ignores Marianne's pause and reaches around to open the door to her Lance 1475 travel trailer before she can and follows her in. As much as he wants to question her about some things that were bothering him, now isn't the time because they needed to save the Dark Forest Circus from potential disaster. It also feels somewhat inappropriate considering how long they've known one another.

"Damnit," he curses as he bumps his head on the trailer's ceiling.

He rubs his sore head and glares playfully at her giggling. His six-six height was a near bane to his existence with the constant moving around, even though his Dutchman Atlas 3302RL travel trailer does keep him from being perpetually slouched.

Taking a moment to look around as Marianne opens a cabinet, he blinks at the dark wood interior, a stark contrast to the bright field of flowers, butterflies, and dragonflies that are painted on the outside. It also looks more like an office with floor-to-ceiling filing cabinets in place of a kitchenette, two swivel rockers with a small table between them in place of a sofa, and even more storage cabinets at the end opposite the door. The only piece of homeness that he can find is the refrigerator next to the door that is absolutely covered with individual pictures of children, so much that he can barely see the stainless steel at all. Even the bathroom door is plastered with pictures. 'Must be the Light Field Circus' children,' he muses, touching a picture of Marianne surrounded by all the kids.

* * *

Marianne quickly unlocks her hidden safe and pulls out one of the cash boxes from its resting place before locking the safe again. Checking the cash box's contents, she nods in satisfaction at the amount and closes it.

"What are ye doing?" Bog questions.

"Money is a requirement for all legal business transactions," she quips, emptying her duster's pockets onto the table.

"I know that," he grunts. "But why are ye taking yer own money? I'll give ye the circus' checkbook."

"One, I'm not legally allowed to handle the Dark Forest Circus' finances. I did start working today, after all, and you haven't had the time to put my name as a legal representative with your bank," Marianne remarks. "Two, even if I used the checkbook regardless of the legality, which I wouldn't, Chester only takes cash. He's had too many bad business deals."

Marianne forces Bog to move slightly as she grabs her amethyst black-trimmed long-sleeved long duster coat from the closet space by the refrigerator and exchanges it for the sleeveless one that she's wearing. She quickly places her wallet, cellphone, two sets of keys, and the folded inventory sheets into her coat pocket before unlocking one of the filing cabinets and searching through the folders.

"Speaking of legality," Bog murmurs, motioning toward the files.

"Everything in this trailer is legally mine," she defends absentmindedly, pulling out the folder she is looking for and relocking the cabinet. "These are all just copies of the Light Field Circus' files and since I wasn't on Light Field Circus property, rented or otherwise, when I was given my walking notice, then I'm not obligated to hand these files over. I'm only obligated to not disclose the information contained to non-authorized personnel. Here, you're going to need this."

"What's this?" he asks, taking the folder and peering through the papers.

"Remember that unbelievable amount of research I put into having both circuses merging? Well, that also included what would be required concerning the cities that we visit and that is it," Marianne explains. "The city is going to need to be informed that we've sold our maximum limit of tickets and it might be best to see if you can hire police officers on this short of notice. They might be lenient since this was an unforeseeable possibility."

"Police officers? We already have security," Bog mentions, stepping out of the trailer at her motion.

"True, but there will be more people here tomorrow than they've ever dealt with at one time," she points out, grabbing the cash box and following after. "Having police on the grounds to help should keep everything under control and there should be plenty of funds to cover the cost without harming the profit."

"Good idea," he comments. "I'll talk to them the first thing in the morning."

Marianne can't stop her wide grin as Bog agrees with her idea. It's unbelievable the number of times that he thought something that she said was right. She could almost chalk it up to him patronizing her but he clearly thought they were good.

The urge to dance or do something really stupid is stomped down with fierce determination as they make their way toward her truck. Just because he thought she is smart, doesn't mean that he couldn't change his mind if she makes a fool of herself and acting like a silly teenager is definitely making a fool of herself. She wasn't one before and she isn't going to start now.

They quickly double-check the enclosed trailer's hook-up and make sure all the lights are in working order. Throwing the cash box on the passenger seat, Marianne moves to get in her truck when Bog's hand on her shoulder stops her. His blue eyes gleam with concern when she turns to face him.

"Are ye sure that ye don't want anyone coming with ye? Ye haven't had any sleep and it's been a long day," Bog murmurs.

"Don't worry, Bog. I'll be fine," she reassures. "You're going to need everyone here when you open tomorrow. Chester will probably make me take a nap while they're loading everything, anyway."

"If it does get too much, then ye better pull off to a rest area and get some sleep," he suggests. "We might need those supplies but ye're safety is more important."

"I won't need to," Marianne comments.

"Marianne!" Bog growls, sending not-fear shivers through her form. "Promise me that ye'll pull off if ye get too tired!"

"But...," she starts.

"Promise me!" he orders.

Bog's wings snap open at his agitation and Marianne gasps softly at the otherworldly sight he presents in the moonlit night. She can almost believe that he really is the goblin king.

"Alright, I promise," Marianne concedes. "Even though I'm sure that I'll be fine, I promise to pull into a rest area if I start feeling too tired."

"Good. Thank ye," Bog mumbles. "Ye have my cell number, so text me when ye make it to Chester's and again when ye're leaving to come back. Be careful."

* * *

Marianne takes one last glance in the side mirror at Bog before returning her eyes to the front as she pulls onto the road and heads down the highway. It seems silly to be a little apprehensive about leaving. She'll be back in several hours.

Then again, she thought the same thing when she pulled out of the Light Field Circus' circus grounds this morning but it was her father's figure that was in the mirror that time. She left to go pick up the permit from city hall then wound up not coming back at all.

"Okay, that's enough of that. I got a long trip ahead of me and I'm not going to spend it wallowing in self-pity," she scolds herself. "You're not going to think about all that until Monday and that is an order."

Nodding to herself in the mirror, Marianne moves to turn the radio on but groans at the sound of her cell phone going off.

"Well, there goes that resolve," she snickers as she looks at the caller ID and places it on speaker. "Hello, Judge Wayver!"

"Hello, Marianne! Sorry to call so late but I figured I'd wait until after all your duties were done," he explains. "Happy birthday and happy first day as the official owner of the Light Field Circus!"

"About that," Marianne groans before sighing.

"What happened?" Taylor questions.

"Those in the Light Field Circus signed a Coup D'etat this morning and appointed Roland Gilder as the new owner," she answers.

"A Coup D'etat? I know what that means but I get the feeling it's not what I think it is," he remarks.

"Oh, right. I forgot that you've never dealt with a circus before us. A Coup D'etat contract is basically mutiny and a takeover. It's similar to a real Coup D'etat but less bloody and more civil," Marianne explains. "This contract only comes into play when circus workers are extremely dissatisfied with the owner but they don't want to leave the circus that they're at. A Coup D'etat has to have the signatures of at least eighty percent of the workers of that circus to be successful because it's like they hold their working contract hostage against the owner to force them into complying with their demands, that being a new owner that they appoint. If the owner does not comply then the workers do not perform and the Coup D'etat prevents the owner from hiring any new workers for the year. Either way, the owner loses their circus."

"I've never heard of this before," Taylor murmurs.

"It's not common, so only circus workers and those that work closely with them know about that cursed contract. Because it is a cursed contract," she remarks.

"What do you mean?" he asks.

"While it's bad for the owner, it's just as bad, if not worse, for anyone that signs it," Marianne comments. "For starters, the Coup D'etat contract also binds the workers to their own working contract and prevents them from getting another job for the rest of the year after they've signed it. They must stay at that circus whether they're actually working or not, even if the Coup D'etat is unsuccessful. And worse, most circuses, out of self-preservation, won't hire someone who had ever signed one of those contracts, so they've also destroyed their circus career. "

"It's a double-edged sword then," Taylor mutters. "What do they all need to do to make this successful?"

"They must have everything related to that circus signed over into the new owner's name by seventy-two hours from the time that the contract goes into effect, that being when the first signature is placed on the paper," she explains. "If even one thing is still in the old owner's name by the end of the deadline, then the Coup D'etat's full consequences go into effect and everyone that signed that contract can no longer work with that circus again. Even though their working contracts are still registered as employed there for the year, they can't do any work there at all."

"This doesn't sound like something that should be taken lightly," he comments.

"It's not because it never ends well," Marianne mutters. "The last one that I've heard of it being used was during my grandfather's younger years. That Coup D'etat was successful but the non-fae-touched circus closed down a few years later because the new owner was even more crooked than the previous one."

"Which is what is going to happen to the Light Field Circus," Taylor sighs. "I'm so sorry, Marianne. All the effort you put into keeping it going and then this."

"I know but I can only help those who want to be helped and they don't want my help," she murmurs, remembering Bog's words.

The reminder of the caring man waiting expectantly for her return brings a smile to her face despite the painful subject and she absentmindedly glances in the side mirror before laughing at herself. Kind of odd that she missed him more than she missed those she's known her whole life.

"I knew that Roland Gilder was no good the moment I laid my eyes on him," Taylor growls. "He reminded me of too many creeps that I've thrown the book at. Truth be told, had you not canceled the wedding before the service, I was going to object before you even made it down the aisle."

"You were not!" Marianne giggles.

"I was too!" he insists, chuckling himself. "Even Ethel was going to. I had a speech all prepared the second I met your groom, which was several minutes before your sister went to go get you. It was a great speech. Everything from calling Roland a cradle-robber to telling Donald that he needs psychiatric treatment for agreeing with this relationship and I might have included that you were unable to make a sane decision at that time because it was obvious that you had lost your mind if you had willingly agreed to marry such a person."

"You would have been right," Marianne sighs. "Everyone has been unhappy with me for the past few years and anything I said or did seemed to incite hostility from them. I just wanted some help and Roland was the only one of those still working that was still being nice and kind to me."

"Reggis had said that things had been tense but he thought things were clearing up," Taylor mentions.

"They were clearing up because I was dating Roland and he appeased everyone else," she explains. "After I canceled the wedding, everything went to hell in a handbasket, and truthfully, I should have seen this coming. But I never thought that they would use a Coup D'etat or that even Dad and Dawn would turn against me."

"Donald? How much is he involved with all this?" he questions sternly.

"I'm not sure. I wasn't at the Light Field Circus' circus grounds when they signed the Coup D'etat and Dad called me to inform me about it, saying how this was for the best and a lot of other things that I didn't care to hear," Marianne mutters. "I called Dawn to find out what was going on and not only did I find out that everyone with a working contract signed the Coup D'etat but...well, not one person there is against the idea of never seeing me again."

The silence is deafening and Marianne takes a quick look at her cell phone to make sure the call is still connected. It is, but that's not to say the judge didn't put her on call-waiting so as to let off some steam. Her suspicion is confirmed when she hears a beep.

"I take it that your father did something stupid again," a woman's voice comments.

"You know Dad, bad plans with good intentions," Marianne quips. "Hello, Mrs Wayver!"

"Hello, Marianne, and happy birthday! Though, it doesn't sound like you've had a good birthday today, have you?" Ethel questions.

"Actually, aside from part of it, I've had a really good birthday," Marianne assures.

"That's good," Ethel murmurs.

"Very good," Taylor remarks, having picked up the other phone. "Might I ask what you've been doing all day?"

"I was at the Dark Forest Circus discussing plans with Mr Gregory Kingly when Dad had called and since I had no reason to return to where the Light Field Circus was, I stayed there," Marianne answers, smirking at the hums of interest. "I now work there as an assistant and secretary to Mr Kingly. I even got to perform with Mr Kingly in the big top today because one of the workers had gotten sick and they needed a fill-in."

"That's wonderful!" the pair cheer.

"Bog is a good man and would make an excellent husband," Ethel adds.

"Ethel!" Taylor scolds. "They've just met. Give them a little time to get to know each other. They'll get married soon enough."

The resulting laughter jolts Marianne out of her shock and she quickly takes her foot off the gas pedal and eases the brake pedal down slowly, watching the speedometer lower back to legal limits. Sure, the pair has acted like grandparents to her since she met them but this is much even for them.

"How exactly do you know Bog?" Marianne asks.

"Griselda is my youngest sister," Ethel explains.

"Dear Lord, I'm in trouble," Marianne mumbles, causing more laughter through her cell phone's speakers.

"Speaking of trouble," Taylor mutters before sighing. "Marianne, you know what I'm going to have to do, don't you?"

"I know," Marianne murmurs. "Can you wait until at least Monday morning? Let Dad have one last show?"

"I can wait until Monday morning," Taylor agrees.

"Also, I don't want anyone to know where I am just yet," Marianne adds, getting agreement to that as well. "And I'd prefer that Griselda doesn't know about any of this just yet either."

"Don't worry, dear. I usually don't talk to my sister when the circus is touring but even if I did, I would never go against your wishes," Ethel reassures.

Bidding the pair goodnight, Marianne ends the call before dialing Chester's number. The groggy male voice answering the phone makes her wince in guilt.

"Sorry to wake you, Chester. It's Marianne DuFae. I was planning on waiting till I got there but I figured that you might prefer the heads up," she explains. "I have an emergency order that needs to be filled as soon as I get to your warehouse."

"Si, si, I can do that. When...," Chester starts before yawning. "Scusa. When are you gonna be here?"

"In about four hours...maybe," Marianne remarks. "I don't know if I'll get there sooner or later than that."

"Va bene. Quanto hai bisogno?" he murmurs.

"Chester, I don't speak Italian," she reminds.

"Scusa, you know I revert when I'm half-asleep," Chester chuckles. "How much you need?"

"A lot. It's a big order," Marianne comments.

"A big order?" he repeats. "You just picked up your supplies two days ago."

"It's a long story and I'll tell you when I get there," she explains.

"Va bene. Call me when you're half an hour away and I'll get everyone up," Chester comments before yawning again. "Scusa."

Ending the call after thanking him and bidding him goodnight, Marianne finally turns on the truck's radio and laughs as 'C'mon Marianne' starts playing. Irony at its finest. Changing the channel mid-song, she grins as 'Stronger (What doesn't kill you)' blares through the speakers and starts singing along with it.


	5. Day Two - Morning

Bog chuckles as he rereads Marianne's text. He can practically feel her frustration through the typed letters and he almost felt worried that she might strangle the man that caused the traffic jam that she's stuck in. Who forgot to check the lock on a cattle trailer's door before driving off? Or more precisely, how could anyone drive off and not notice their cattle escaping down the freeway?

Imp's questioning hum grabs his attention and he looks down at the smaller man.

"Marianne is stuck in a traffic jam caused by runaway cattle," Bog answers.

_"What a load of bull,"_ Imp signs while laughing.

Bog joins in with his own laughter, only to laugh harder as he opens the new message that pops up. The message is a picture of Marianne taking a selfie with an Angus steer sticking its head in her truck's window trying to get her breakfast sandwich. He moves to show it to Imp when he notices a vehicle pulling into the parking area.

"Odd," Bog murmurs. "We still got a few hours before noon."

_"Plum said to keep the hiding hidden,"_ Imp signs after tapping on Bog's cell phone.

"Ye think that they're with the Light Field Circus?" Bog questions.

_"Who else would have a reason to show up this early?"_ Imp signs.

He hated to admit it but the older man is right. Surely, they've realized what a huge mistake they've made and would be looking to get Marianne back, rules be damned. Even she is afraid that she would collapse under their pleading if they managed to contact her. Putting his cell phone into his pocket, Bog curses as he glances toward the living area.

"They'll know Marianne is here if they spot her trailer, it's too unique to be unrecognizable," Bog groans. "Imp, get several workers to help ye move her trailer and make sure ye do it without drawing attention!"

Imp nods and quickly runs off while Bog strides toward the parking area, kissing the honey amber butterfly for good luck. The neon green sports car parks just as he makes it to the gated entrance and a quick glance backward makes Bog sigh in relief that Marianne's trailer can't be seen from here. Especially as the car's three male occupants exit the car and it's clear that they're light fae-touched.

The smallest man, a teenager by the looks of it, wouldn't even seem fae-touched with only his really short stature but it's the long pointed ears and four-fingered hands that out him. Both taller men have slightly curled pointed ears but the moth-like wings laying against their backs are their defining feature.

Bog doesn't know the two but there's no mistaking Donald DuFae. Hopefully, he won't be the one strangling someone today. It'd be bad publicity.

* * *

"I'm Gregory Kingly. What can I do for ye, gentlemen?" Bog questions as they approach him at the gate.

"Sorry to trouble you, Mr Kingly," Donald starts. "I'm Donald DuFae and my eldest daughter has...gone missing. We had thought that maybe she had come here yesterday."

"That's possible. We had a great many visitors yesterday," Bog comments.

"No, you idiot," the tall blonde sneers. "We mean that she had come here to hide from the consequences of her actions, not come to gawk at a bunch of freaks like you."

"Roland!" Donald reprimands.

Bog tries hard to contain the growl that rumbles deep in his chest, even if he can't stop from clenching his hands into fists or his wings from snapping open. He definitely isn't about to tell this pompous jerk where Marianne is.

The low growl coming from beside him helps calm him down and he glances down at his mother, who's glaring at the interloper. He chuckles lightly as Roland steps back from the heat of Griselda's displeasure with him. Each of the newcomers becomes wary as more of his workers gather near the gate but it only puts Bog at ease to know that his people will protect their newest member and he relaxes his posture.

"What possible reason do ye have to believe that she came here?" Bog asks. "Surely, ye agree that it's odd that the daughter of the Light Field Circus' owner would come to a rival circus on opening day."

"She had this crazy idea about the two circuses merging," Roland mutters. "We figured she might have approached you about it."

"Ah! Ye mean the beautiful brunette with boots made to emasculate an idiot," Bog remarks, nudging his foot against his mother's to stop her snickering. "Yeah, she was here yesterday morning and showed me the plans that she made."

"Then she's here?" Donald questions hopefully.

"No," Bog states. "Don't know where she is either."

Well, it is the truth. He didn't know where she is...exactly. If he can get away with it then he has no intention of lying, that never turns out good no matter the reasons, but that doesn't mean that he won't if he has to. He's not going to let on how much he knows about their actions, either. Though, he feels mildly guilty at Donald's obvious distress.

"If she's missing then ye should contact the police," Bog suggests gently to ease the troubled man.

"We did but they said they couldn't do anything since it's obvious that Marianne left on purpose," the teenager mutters.

"Shut up, Sunny!" Roland yells.

Bog can't help his curiosity that Donald doesn't reprimand the other man this time. It is odd, and odder still, the grey-haired man seems almost pleased when Sunny cringes at the rebuke. The expression is gone so fast that he can almost believe that he imagined it.

The vibrating cell phone in his pocket brings him back to focus. Namely, getting rid of these three without giving them a reason to come back later.

"Then I don't see why ye came here looking for her," Bog remarks.

"Cut the crap, goblin! We know she's here," Roland states, poking Bog's chest and spreading his tan and rust moth-like wings. "It's all over the city that you had a new performer last night."

"Something that we've been advertising for weeks," Bog defends coolly, grabbing the offending hand and throwing it away from him.

"Everyone is also talking about how they've never seen her with your filthy two-bit sideshow before," Roland counters. "No one can stop talking about how great her performance was or how unusual she is."

"Oh yes, it was a fabulous performance!" Plum chimes in.

Bog would have laughed about how fast Roland scrambled backward, nearly tripping over his own feet, if he didn't nearly jump out of his own skin at Plum's sudden appearance between the two of them. He doesn't know how she does it but he really, really, really wishes she wouldn't do that!

"Aura!" Donald murmurs in surprise.

"Hello, Donald! Long time no see!" Plum singsongs. "Anyway, the Dark Forest Circus' newest performer is really something special. She dueled our ringmaster splendidly and everyone was wowed by her fantastic wings."

"Wings?" Sunny repeats. "Then it can't be Marianne. She doesn't have any wings."

Bog's rising panic at Plum's big mouth flatlines and he stares at Sunny in shock. 'Doesn't have wings? What does he mean by that?' he questions silently. His suspicion from last night rises in his mind.

"Fine. So the performer isn't Marianne, so what," Roland scoffs. "That doesn't mean she isn't here and I'm calling the cops to search this place."

"If you won't take our word about Marianne not being here, then I'll just show you," Aura comments.

* * *

Plum is crazy. It's the only explanation he can think of as he walks behind the vibrant woman, her heart coin charms jingling merrily. First, she tells about Marianne's performance last night and then she invites them to inspect the area for any trace of her. They were trying to keep them from finding out that she's here, not help them find her, for heaven's sake!

"Four years is such a long time and everyone has changed so much," Plum comments. "I almost didn't recognize Marianne when I saw her yesterday morning, such a charming young lady and so beautiful. Though, that's not much a difference from her younger self, actually."

There is also the fact that Plum's constant chattering is giving him more of a headache than their undesired company. At least he only has to keep an eye on Donald and Roland since it seems that the appearance of Plum scared away whatever courage Sunny had and the teenager had stayed in the parking lot while they walked farther into his domain.

"You haven't really changed much, Donald, although you have definitely aged quite a bit," Plum continues blithely. "Did you have this much grey hair before? I could have sworn you..."

"Aura, where is Marianne?" Donald interrupts.

"Not here and I don't know. I haven't seen her since yesterday," Plum answers truthfully. "Although I must say, you really gave her a fantastic birthday present."

Bog takes some comfort in that he isn't the only one to noticeably start at the dangerous look to her smile as she grins toward the pair. He wouldn't be surprised if she is trying to figure out where they could hide the bodies without them ever being found. From Roland's gulp and quick step back, it seems the thought had crossed his mind as well.

"She was still here when you called, you know, and everyone here knows what you've done," Plum murmurs, her voice full of cheerful malice. "Bog is not mentioning it out of courtesy but you know that I'm not one to beat around the bush."

"It's none of your business," Roland growls, getting his bravado back.

"Oh, but it is!" Plum insists. "I will not let you hurt Marianne again!"

"Ha! So, you admit she's here!" Roland crows.

"I told you that she isn't here and she isn't! I haven't seen her since yesterday," Plum repeats. "But don't believe me. Look around! Do you see her truck or her trailer?"

The next several minutes are tense as Bog walks with Roland as the other man checks around the living area at a furious pace. Why he doesn't use those wings of his, Bog doesn't know and he's only grateful that he doesn't. No doubt he'd be able to find Marianne's hidden trailer if he took to the air. As it is, Roland's frustrated growls only make Bog's smirk grow when they reach his trailer and the circus fleas' tent. Where on earth did Imp hide it?

"This is the edge of our grounds and there's nothing past here," Bog informs.

Bog laughs as the idiot sticks his head into the circus flea tent and gets pelted with thrown pillows. Brutus doesn't help, the five-year-old kicking Roland's shin while he's distracted and causing everyone to laugh at the high-pitched scream. Imp's nearby snickering alerts Bog to whose fault it is for the kids' violent reaction and he quickly pulls the hopping Roland back to the waiting Plum and Donald before someone said something they shouldn't.

"The circus fleas," Bog explains at accusatory and curious looks.

"Are you satisfied?" Plum asks. "You've looked everywhere, even the big top, and haven't found anything."

* * *

The grumbles and muttered curses are music to Bog's ears as they walk back to the gate and he can't stop his wide grin as Roland limps back to his car. Sunny is already in the back seat, looking appropriately terrified. Whatever the teenager had said in their absence had seemed to anger all the workers and even his mother's normally friendly attitude is nowhere to be found. The quicker they leave, the better. For their own sakes.

Noticing the absence of Donald, Bog turns around and notices him hand Plum a sheet of paper out of sight of his waiting companions.

"Marianne's birthday present," Donald explains quietly at Plum's question. "Give it to her when she gets back."

"What makes you think she's coming back?" Plum questions.

"Aura," Donald murmurs. "You know that I know better."

"You're playing with fire again, and this time, the whole field will burn," Plum warns softly.

"Some wounds can only heal with cauterization," Donald replies cryptically. "By the way, who won the duel last night?"

"Marianne, of course," Plum giggles.

"That's my girl!" Donald chuckles tiredly before sighing heavily. "Goodbye, Aura, and...you were right."

Bog blinks at Plum's look of shock and watches as Donald enters the waiting car without further words. The tense atmosphere doesn't leave until after the car turns on the highway and speeds off. That doesn't stop the explosive emotions, though.

"They're not even concerned about her missing!" Griselda yells.

"What?" Bog mutters.

"They're not even concerned about her missing!" Griselda repeats. "They don't care that they can't find her because she's not even what they're looking for!"

"Ye're not making sense, Mom," Bog murmurs.

"She's right," Stuff growls, baring her sharp teeth toward the road. "They don't care about Marianne at all. They're only searching for her because they claim she stole all of the Light Field Circus' files when she left."

"Can't they ever come up with something new," Plum grumbles, rolling her eyes before looking at the paper in her hand. "Oh, Donald!"

"Plum?" Bog asks at her distressed tone.

He takes the paper that she wordlessly hands to him and shock courses through him as he peers at the content. Of all the things to give his daughter! The man is more confusing than a mime in a school for the blind. He's tempted to tear the paper up to spare Marianne the pain of seeing the cursed contract but Plum lays a calming hand on his arm.

"Make sure you give that to Marianne," Plum orders.

"What is it, Bog?" Griselda questions.

"A copy of the Coup D'etat contract signing Roland Gilder as the new owner of the Light Field Circus to replace Donald DuFae," Bog answers.

"That Marianne needs to have!" Plum yells loudly over the calls of tearing it up.

"Whose side are you on, Plum?" Griselda growls.

"Trust me. Those fools messed up," Plum smirks.

"That's right! They have less than forty-eight hours to sign the circus over to the new owner," Fang comments. "That's why they're so worried about those files."

"So, did Marianne steal them?" Thang questions hesitantly.

"No," Bog states firmly. "She said that the files in her trailer are only copies and I believe her."

"Good boy!" Plum praises, pulling him down and patting his cheek. "You'd make a great husband for Marianne."

"Plum!" Bog yells, ignoring the laughter.

"Well, you would!" Plum defends. "Anyway, your faith in her is well placed. Those are just copies and the originals are stored back at the DuFae home."

"How do you know all this?" Yemma asks suspiciously.

"Plum used to be with the Light Field Circus but came here several months before ye did," Bog explains.

"That doesn't explain how she knows all that if even those idiots that left don't know," Stuff remarks.

"Donald's late wife was my sister," Plum explains blithely, ignoring the shocked looks. "Ah, look at the time! I have got to get ready!"

* * *

Pausing only a moment to give orders for everyone to get ready, Bog storms after Plum, the short woman somehow scurrying away faster than his long legs are able to catch up. This time she is not going to brush him off with nonsense. He is going to stay calm and get explanations.

"Plum! Ye're going to give me straight answers this time!" Bog orders.

"About what?" Plum questions, disappearing into her fortune teller's tent.

"For starters, about why ye told me not to tell Marianne about ye yesterday when I came to ask ye to order the cake. If ye're her aunt, then why didn't ye want her to know that ye're here?" Bog asks, following after. "Reuniting with ye would have been a good birthday gift."

"I'm afraid it wouldn't have been," Plum murmurs sadly. "I'm partly responsible for the others rejecting Marianne as the Light Field Circus owner."

"Ye're doing it again, Plum. No vague answers," Bog warns. "What do ye mean by that?"

"What do you know of the reason that I'm here and not at the Light Field Circus?" Plum asks instead.

The change of subject causes him to bite back a curse and he pinches the bridge of his nose in frustration. Why ever did he think he could get Plum to speak normal? Maybe he should go get his mother, that might do the trick.

"Ye left because you weren't getting along with the others for personal reasons," Bog answers.

"He doesn't know, Plum," Griselda comments, entering the tent. "We never told him because we didn't think it was important that he know why you left."

"And you wanted to make sure that I wasn't what they accused me off," Plum mutters.

"Bah! Nonsense! Loch and I never thought you were a thief," Griselda argues.

"Anyone going to explain to me?" Bog questions dryly.

"Well, what happened is that four years ago there was talk around the Light Field Circus that I had stolen money from the circus," Plum explains. "Absolutely ridiculous! There was no proof, just rumors, but most everyone believed it. They pretty much insinuated that I was taking advantage of my brother-in-law's grief."

"Surely Donald showed them proof that ye weren't stealing," Bog remarks.

"He didn't say anything," Plum comments, sighing at Bog's outrage. "You must understand, Bog, that when my little sister died in that horrible accident, Donald died as well. What you saw today is the most he's been himself since that fateful day."

Bog runs a clawed hand through his hair and lets out a deep breath. That is understandable. What happened that day was so terrible that it even disrupted those at the Dark Forest Circus. Not to mention, the event that happened afterward that nearly destroyed the Light Field Circus.

"But just because he didn't defend me, that didn't mean that no one did," Plum continues. "Marianne did and even showed the Light Field Circus accounts as proof that nothing was missing. Unfortunately, no one believed her and there was talk that she had either forged the accounts or replaced the money that was stolen. They couldn't call the police on me since there was no evidence of theft but that didn't mean they let the matter alone. I could handle their harassment but poor Marianne, she only defended me and they started treating her worse than they treated me. I thought that if I left and stayed completely out of her life, then they would leave Marianne alone because those bullies would have gotten what they wanted. So, you see, I'm only another reminder to Marianne of things gone wrong."

"You should tell her that you're here. She'll find out soon enough, anyway," Griselda remarks.

"I'll tell her on Monday. After that is finished," Plum murmurs, pointing to Coup D'etat copy. "I had planned on going over to the Light Field Circus yesterday to talk to her but even I couldn't predict that they would sign that. To call them stupid is an insult to stupid people. Only someone completely insane would destroy their own home and livelihood."

"Marianne told me yesterday that she wouldn't be surprised if the Light Field Circus closes," Bog mentions.

"Tomorrow is the last day that the Light Field Circus will ever open and they only have themselves to blame. Signing that contract, they guaranteed it," Plum states with finality.


	6. Day Two - Afternoon

Plum's words lay heavy on Bog's heart even as he mingles with the visitors. Despite how the closing of the Light Field Circus would be good for his own circus, all he can think about is how tragic it will be for those that depend on it for refuge. He couldn't even sign any of those workers into his circus to protect them. Only Marianne is safe.

Maybe if he lets Marianne out of her contract with him, then she can take over the Light Field Circus from her father and keep the circus running. After all, they signed that contract against Donald DuFae before she gained control.

'No, that wouldn't work. They still won't be permitted to work there,' he groans silently, thinking back on all the rules of the Coup D'etat. Not to mention, it's obvious they don't want her in charge even if it saves them since they signed that cursed contract to prevent her from taking over.

Even knowing what he knows now about Plum, it still doesn't make sense that they hate Marianne so much. Plum is annoying, not a thief, and anyone with brains can see that. Why would Marianne defending her own aunt, that she proved is innocent of the crime she is accused of, make the Light Field Circus people turn against her? Or were they already against her before the incident and only used it as an excuse? But that makes less sense since Marianne would have been thirteen or fourteen at the time.

Sunny's comment about Marianne not having any wings surfaces in his mind and he resists the urge the run his hand through his hair. He has more questions than answers at this point but it's not Marianne's fault. They just met yesterday and it's been one thing after another keeping them both busy. It doesn't help that he couldn't ask Plum about the other things that he was curious about. Time just wasn't on his side this morning and he had to get ready himself.

He couldn't even reply to Marianne's missed call. Her later text message was good news about the cattle being forced off the highway and the traffic being let through. Unfortunately, not soon enough for her to get here by the time they reopened and he is already getting worried looks from his workers as he passes each booth.

"BK, we got problems," Stuff whispers. "Jacqueline only has three grand prizes remaining, Maxine is nearly out of popcorn, and Lakeesha barely has any balloons left. That's not even mentioning everyone else that is getting low. I don't think we're going to last much longer if Marianne doesn't get here soon."

Bog nods his acknowledgment and quickly strides toward the fenced-off living area. He pulls out his cell phone once the cacophony of noise lessens and brings up Marianne's contact information. Just as he is about to dial, his cell phone vibrates with an incoming call and he breathes a sigh of relief at the number.

"Marianne, where are ye?" Bog questions as soon as he accepts the call.

"Just pulled off the highway and into the parking lot," Marianne answers. "Where do you want me to go? It's kind of packed."

"Can't ye pull into the back?" he asks.

"Nope, it's blocked," she informs, snickering at his curse. "Someone parked in front of the road to the back and then everyone decided that it was okay to park there, too."

"It'll take too long to get those vehicles moved and we need those supplies now. Pull in front of the gate," Bog orders. "Anyone who has a problem with how it looks can jump in the nearest lake, backwards and stark naked!"

It is only after he ends the call that Bog realizes what he just said and he gapes at the cell phone in his hand in horror. It doesn't help that his mind offers an interesting image of what it would look like if Marianne took him up on that. He buries his red face in his clawed hands.

"Ye're a terrible man, Bog!" he groans.

Imp's cackling intrudes on his self-disgust and Bog removes his hands to glare at the other man. Imp merely tugs on one of his long white-furred ears and grins broadly, showcasing all his sharp teeth.

"Ye heard all that, did ye?" Bog mutters.

_"Of course. An interesting way to tell a girl that you're thinking of her in her birthday suit,"_ Imp signs.

"Shut up and get back to work!" Bog growls.

Not even the noise of the circus can block out Imp's cackling as Bog nearly runs back through the crowds and he resists the urge to groan out loud. Instead, he breathes a sigh of relief when he spots a white truck driving toward the entrance gate, the black thorny vines with blue Chinese double bellflower and pink primrose graphics adorning the doors and hood assures him that it's Marianne even before he can see the trailer's advertisement for the Dark Forest Circus. He quickly gathers up all available workers and heads toward the gate just as Marianne parks the truck and jumps out.

* * *

"How bad is it?" Marianne asks, unlatching the trailer's doors.

"Jacqueline, Maxine, and Lakeesha are just about out of their top items," Stuff informs. "Everyone else is too low for comfort."

"Then let's get everything delivered, starting with those that need it most," Bog orders. "Uh, Marianne, this can't be everything that was on that list."

"It isn't. Chester noticed that the order was far larger than the trailer or my truck could handle, so he only had a quarter of each item's required amount loaded in the trailer," Marianne explains. "The rest will be delivered. He had to wait until nine to call a truck driver friend of his but as long as he doesn't get delayed, Jackson should be here within the next hour or so."

"Meaning that we need that back road cleared," Bog mutters before turning his attention to the small group. "Romulus, Remus, I need ye to find out who's all parked in that area and get them moved. Get the police to help to avoid any trouble."

The fae-touched twins nod their understanding and run off to explain the situation to the police officers while the others unload the trailer's contents onto the grass. The next problem presents itself very quickly.

"There's no way we can get these to the booths fast enough in this large a crowd," Thang comments. "They'll run out before we can get to them."

Marianne holds back a curse of her own as she looks over the circus grounds. Thang is right, of course, it'll take too long to get through the crowds. There is another option and her wings twitch against their bindings at the thought as she looks above the milling crowds. The deafening sound of those familiar voices creeping around her mind forces her to grab her pendant in an effort to keep her breathing calm.

"Marianne?" Bog questions softly.

His concerned blue eyes pierce through the memories and clears the haze with ease. She tries to smile but it falls flat and she takes a deep breath. 'It's all lies, Marianne. They were wrong. Nothing happened last night and nothing will happen now,' Marianne reassures silently, rubbing the amethyst dragonfly. This time the smile is real as Bog places a hand on her shoulder and repeats his unspoken question.

"I'm alright. It's nothing," Marianne assures. "I got an idea on how to deliver those boxes fast."

"Clever girl!" Bog praises, following her upwards-pointed finger.

Marianne quickly removes her amethyst and black-trimmed duster and throws it into her truck before grabbing two boxes. Taking off, she just overhears Bog ordering the others to deliver the supplies to all the flighted booth tenders first before she gets too far away.

The oohs and ahhs as she flies overheard nearly makes her panic again but the relieved face of Lakeesha as she approaches chases the panic away. She doesn't even need to land as she lets the box of balloons fall in Lakeesha's waiting hands before flying off, smiling as the kids cheer excitedly as the other fae-touched woman quickly forms a pink and green balloon flower hat for her customer.

"I'm so sor...," Maxine starts.

"Special delivery!" Marianne interrupts, landing beside the booth and handing over the box.

"Oh, you're an angel!" Maxine sighs before turning to her customer. "Please wait just a few minutes and I'll have a fresh batch ready."

"Fresh popcorn is always worth the wait!" the man laughs.

Marianne takes to the air again to rush back to the truck, this time not letting the crowd's attention distract her. It doesn't take her long to realize what Bog had ordered as she notices several other flighted workers grabbing boxes themselves and flying off to deliver them. 'And Bog calls me clever,' she chuckles.

* * *

Delivering everything had taken very little time with their ability to avoid foot traffic and it had even entertained the visitors. Though there was a complaint or two about the circus being unorganized, that was easily ignored. Especially when a semi-truck pulls into the parking lot a little over half an hour after she did and they quickly scramble to clear the way for Jackson to pull into the back area.

Marianne doesn't miss Bog's quick look at her after she parks her truck and heads over to the others gathering around Jackson's big rig. It is curious but she shrugs it off and moves to help unload the trailer.

"Oh no ye don't," Bog mutters, taking the box she picks up and handing it off to someone else. "Ye're going to get some sleep."

"These need to be unloaded," Marianne comments, growling as Bog blocks her attempts to grab another box.

"We can deal with these and since the emergency is passed, ye're going to get some sleep," Bog repeats.

"I slept in Chester's office in the two hours it took for them to get everything counted for and loaded. So, I am fine," Marianne counters.

"Don't believe her," Jackson comments. "Chester said that she didn't sleep well."

"Little weasel," Marianne grumbles.

"Love ya too, princess," Jackson laughs, handing over her cash box and two invoices.

"Did you take your payment out?" Marianne questions, looking at his invoice. "That is too cheap, Jackson! You're taking more than that!"

"That is plenty," Jackson insists. "It's the same as I charge every time."

"Except we never do a rush order like this," Marianne points out. "You should charge more. Plus, Chester told me that today is your only day off between two three-day trips and you should take recompense for missing time with your girls."

"I'm not missing any time with my girls at all. They took the trip with me," Jackson mentions.

The giggling from the truck's cab alerts Marianne to the truth and she waves back to Jackson's three daughters waving from the driver's window. She smirks as an idea takes root and she nearly laughs as Jackson groans. He knew her too well.

"Jessy, Caroline, I got a job for you!" Marianne calls.

"What are you up to?" Jackson asks warily.

"It wouldn't happen to be something about Jackson and his daughters touring the circus while we unload everything, would it?" Bog guesses.

"As long as you don't mind," Marianne comments sheepishly, rubbing the back of her neck.

"Not at all. I was thinking of it myself," Bog admits. "Not everyone who bought a ticket for today has shown up just yet, so we won't get into any trouble for exceeding our limit."

Marianne breathes a sigh of relief. She had forgotten that she wasn't in charge anymore but Bog's smile of reassurance puts her at ease for her blunder. She waves Jackson's daughters over just as the two thirteen-year-olds arrive.

"You called?" Caroline questions.

"I want ye two to escort Mr Malony and his daughters around the circus," Bog orders.

"And whatever they want is on me," Marianne adds, pulling money from the cash box and handing it to the teenagers. "Whatever is left, give to the girls. Girls, don't let your daddy win."

Jackson's protests are cut short as the five, seven, and ten-year-old drag their father toward the booths with the laughing teenagers running after. He might have known her well but he forgot that she played dirty.

The clawed hands settling on her shoulders and forcing her away from the bustling activity and pushing her toward the travel trailers and tents makes her realize that she isn't the only one to cheat for the greater good. With a longsuffering sigh, she gives into Bog's prodding and allows herself to be pushed, absentmindedly putting the invoices into her duster's pocket.

* * *

"Why is my trailer behind your trailer?" Marianne questions.

"We...uh...had unexpected company after I came back from city hall this morning," Bog admits slowly. "It was just after ye sent that picture with the bull. I had to give Imp orders to hide yer trailer and this is where they put it."

"What happened?" she groans.

"Yer father, Roland, and Sunny came by searching for ye but it wasn't that bad," he reassures as her groan deepens. "Other than a little bit of trouble caused by the kids, nothing happened except talking. I think Roland and Sunny are convinced that ye're not here but..."

"Dad knows that I am," Marianne finishes.

"Yeah," Bog sighs. "He didn't say anything to the others, though. Just left without saying much but he did give us something to give to ye. He called it yer birthday present and I put it in yer trailer."

Bog follows Marianne into her trailer, after taking his pork pie hat off and making sure to stay slouched this time. He watches worriedly as she picks up the paper he laid on her table and reads the written words.

"Oh, Daddy," she murmurs.

"I'm sorry, Marianne. I don't know what he was thinking when he...," Bog starts.

"I do," Marianne interrupts. "This is his way of telling me that he did this on purpose."

"What do ye mean?" he questions.

"Why were Roland and Sunny here?" Marianne asks instead. "It surely wasn't for me."

'Like aunt, like niece,' Bog snickers silently before answering her. "From what Mom managed to wrangle out of Sunny, they were searching for ye because they claim ye stole the Light Field Circus files. Which I know ye didn't! Ye said these were all copies and I believe ye! But apparently, they think that ye have the originals. They obviously didn't think this completely through."

"No, they didn't," she chuckles humorlessly. "All the original files are stored back home and had they done this before we left, they might have had a chance to be successful but now it's obvious this was doomed to fail from the start."

"And ye think yer dad planned it this way? But that doesn't make sense since that means that he planned to permanently close the Light Field Circus and also ruin everyone who works there," he comments. "Everyone except ye, anyway."

"As I said yesterday, Dad makes really messed-up plans that he thinks are a good idea and I think this is his way of fixing...a mistake he made years ago," Marianne murmurs, glancing at the paper once more. "As for everyone else, I wouldn't put it past him that this is his way of punishing them for even thinking about signing a Coup D'etat."

'Or for punishing them for the way they treated his daughter,' Bog muses silently. It's what he would probably do if someone disrespected his child as much as they did to her. He's only known what they've said and done for the past two days but with Plum's information, it's clear that they've been treating her harshly for at least four years.

A yawn from Marianne breaks him out of his musing and he nearly smacks himself for keeping her awake with his questions. They can talk later.

"Go to sleep. I'll have someone wake ye when it's close to the time for the final act," he comments. "That is if ye still want to do it?"

"I do and I was thinking that we do the same thing that Griselda said that you and your dad did, improvise each show to make it unpredictable," she suggests, getting a devious smirk and a dark chuckle. "I should be awake by then but if not, then about ten or fifteen minutes before should be enough time for me to get ready. I usually slee...oh, shit!"

Bog curses himself as he automatically stands straight up at her alarm and slams his head against the ceiling. His grumbled question comes out rough as he rubs his sore head.

"The problem is that I have no place to sleep," Marianne explains with a groan. "Dawn and I sleep in the circus flea tent, so when I got this trailer, I took out the bed and put those cabinets in."

"Well, there's no way ye can sleep in the circus flea tent now because ye'll never get any sleep," Bog remarks. "Go sleep in my trailer and we'll figure out where ye can stay after we close."

It takes him a few minutes to remember that his trailer doesn't have a sofa in it and he just offered his bed for her to sleep in. By Marianne's reddening face, she just realized that as well but before he can nervously defend his intention, she merely nods her head.

"Right. I mean, okay. Oh, uh, this is yours actually. Sorry," she murmurs sheepishly, removing the invoices from her duster's pocket and handing them to Bog. "I told you, you're going to have to correct me when I overstep my boundaries. It might take a while before old habits die and I remember that I'm not in charge anymore."

"Now why would I correct ye when ye're doing just fine? I also want to know how much ye gave to Jessy and Caroline because ye're getting reimbursed for that as well," he comments before looking at Chester's invoice. "Dear Lord, who'd ye kill to get these prices?!"

"Chester and I made a deal a few years ago. It's a deal that he's willing to extend to you since the deal is with me and not the Light Field Circus," Marianne explains.

"What kind of deal? Do I have to sell my soul or something? Because for these prices, it's doable," Bog quips.

"Nothing that dramatic but don't let Chester catch you saying it or he might think of something," she laughs. "You see, his family visits his parents at the same time as we get to the last city we tour in but even though he has a flourishing business, he has eight kids and that makes it expensive for them to go to the circus. The same goes for his five siblings and their collective amount of nearly two dozen children. That is where the deal comes in. He offers the supplies cheaper than he normally sells it, putting it nearly about the same price as he pays for it, and in exchange, he gets tickets and everything for free. They're actually very conservative about what they buy, so we still get the better end of the deal. Here, let me see if I can find their receipts from last year."

Bog takes another look at the invoice while Marianne combs through her filing cabinets. If he had gotten everything on this list from his usual supplier then he would have had paid two-to-three times as much and they wouldn't have even gotten the supplies in quick order. Even Jackson's invoice is noticeably cheaper compared to other trucking services he had to use every once in a while.

Grabbing the paper Marianne hands to him, Bog can't keep his eyebrows from raising in surprise. She wasn't kidding. The circus would still come out ahead if Chester's family spent twice what they did last year. He'd be a fool to turn this offer down.

"Well?" Marianne questions nervously.

"Ye need a new job title," Bog states. "How does co-owner sound?"


	7. Day Two - Evening

"Mar...ne. Wa...p...de..rie."

Marianne growls at the intruding noise and burrows deeper into the soft nice-smelling bed, pulling the other pillow over her head. She is having a nice dream about flying through a large moonlit forest with Bog and she refuses to have it interrupted before it's finished.

Griselda chuckles at the younger woman's tenaciousness. But as much as she would like to let Marianne get her well-deserved rest, she did need to wake up.

Marianne sighs as Bog places a Chinese double bellflower in her hair, his claws caressing her skin slightly. His soft smile sends warmth through her heart and she beams with a smile of her own. A smile that widens as Bog leans closer, his blue eyes starting to close...

"GAHHHH!"

"I'm sorry, Marianne, but you did ask to be woken up," Griselda explains, setting the air horn aside.

"An air horn? Seriously? Why would you even have that?" Marianne questions, trying to untangle herself out of the blankets.

"The better question is why wouldn't I have it?" Griselda chuckles. "You were sleeping pretty deeply and..."

"Wait, what? I was 'sleeping' sleeping? Can't be," Marianne mutters.

"Yes, you were. You didn't hear my first dozen attempts at waking you up and I had no choice but to use my guaranteed-to-wake-even-my-son last attempt or

you won't have enough time to get ready for your performance," Griselda remarks.

"But I'm a very light sleeper, no matter how tired I am," Marianne mumbles.

The rest of Griselda's words finally break through the fog over her brain and Marianne turns her attention to the nearby LED clock. 'I'm gonna be late!' Scrambling out of bed and putting her boots on, Marianne runs out the door and heads straight for her trailer to change out of her nightgown.

"Do you even own any other type of clothes?" Griselda asks as Marianne enters the big top's backstage several minutes later.

"Yeah but the chances of me actually wearing them are slim," Marianne snickers. "How's everything been going?"

"Really good. Not as smoothly as yesterday but nothing that the crowd noticed," Griselda answers. "I just sent Stuff and Thang out to delay Bog from announcing your performance or you might have missed your cue."

"Good. I...," Marianne starts before staring incredulously through the backstage curtain. "What's an arm skis on roaches?"

"I don't know but it sounds hilarious," Griselda chuckles.

Marianne quickly moves out of the way as Bog storms backstage and she tries to contain her smile as his scowl turns into a look of relief.

"I was worried something was wrong with ye," Bog murmurs.

"Just slept deeper than usual. Sorry," Marianne mutters.

"No, no, that's fine. I'm just sorry that we had to wake ye when ye needed yer rest. Are ye sure ye feel well enough to perform?" Bog questions.

"No problem but I'm not sure what we're going to do. I dozed off too quickly to think of something for our routine," Marianne comments.

"I got that covered," Bog assures. "I talked to Imp and he told me what ye had him do yesterday with the karaoke music. Just follow my lead."

She nods as Bog explains his plan and hesitantly removes her sleeveless duster as Bog returns through the curtain. 'Nothing happened last night and nothing will happen now,' she coaches silently, taking a deep breath as she rubs her amethyst dragonfly.

"Bog told me that he offered you a position as co-owner of the Dark Forest Circus," Griselda murmurs suddenly.

"He was just joking around, Griselda," Marianne comments.

"He wasn't joking," Griselda insists, her heart panging at the shock on the other woman's face. "He is serious and had Stuff not interrupted because they needed Bog, he would have made sure you knew it. Quite a few of us know about his idea and we're all for it. We believe in you, so believe in yourself."

* * *

Despite Marianne's attempt of pushing them aside, Griselda's persistent words echo in her head as she readies herself for Bog's cue as he walks back toward the bone throne. Surely, the older woman was making more out of it than it actually is. Up until yesterday morning, not only did they not know each other but she had been their rival, so it doesn't make sense that Bog was serious about his comment.

At least, not this soon. Right?

She shakes her head in a physical gesture to cast off the repeating thoughts. It wouldn't be good to mess up during the performance and ruin everything. Clutching her amethyst dragonfly and taking one last deep breath, Marianne moves quickly through the shadows to the big top's main entrance as Bog starts to address the waiting audience, directing their full attention on him.

"There is no arm skis on roaches. It's the armed fairy approaches," Bog punctuates slowly, glaring at Thang. "Apparently, our intruder yesterday didn't learn their lesson."

"What lesson?" Marianne questions mockingly as she confidently strides into the audience's view and towards the center ring. "How easy the almighty Goblin King is to defeat in battle?"

The resulting laughter causes Marianne's smirk to grow and she pulls her sword from its scabbard to perform a flashy gesture. It takes all of her restraint not to let her smirk turn into a wide smile as a very familiar tune starts to play from the speakers when Bog twirls his staff in response. Oh the irony!

**_"Think ye got the best of me! Think ye had the last laugh! Bet ye think that everything good is gone!"_ **

Bog's strong voice belting out the lyrics sends the visitors into a frenzy, especially as he pulls his pork pie hat lower to cover one side of his forehead more than the other side. It's hard not to break her own character to join the cheering as he moves to the beat with flashy and exaggerated movements that cause the light to create a dazzling display as it reflects off his ornate golden quarterstaff.

'Showoff,' she snickers silently.

**_"Think ye left me broken down! Think that I'd be running now! Fairy, ye don't know me 'cause ye're dead wrong!"_ **

She keeps her steps steady even as Bog starts walking toward her, his long stride making the distance smaller with each step. Marianne lets her amusement at his theatrics show as they meet in the middle of the center ring.

Time to have some fun.

**_"What doesn't kill ye makes ye stronger! Stand a little taller! Doesn't mean I'm lonely when I'm alone!"_ **

Even expecting the attack doesn't help but Marianne manages to bring her sword up in time to block as Bog stops showing off with his quarterstaff and brings it down on her head. The power behind the strike cause sparks to fly from the weapons and she grins savagely at the knowledge that he wasn't planning on holding back this time. A sentiment she wholly agrees as she blocks the next quick strikes aimed at her sides.

**_"What doesn't kill ye makes a fighter! Footsteps even lighter! Doesn't mean I'm over 'cause ye won!"_ **

Any attempt at countering is futile and Marianne grits her teeth as Bog uses his greater height to try and throw her off balance. He was definitely not planning on holding back. She has no choice but to use her wings to fly backward to avoid his next downward strike, causing the metal to clang against the ground instead.

She growls at his cocky grin as he unhurriedly saunters after her with his arms thrown wide to the sides in a mocking invitation. 'This might be a little harder than it was last night,' she reluctantly admits.

* * *

Bog laughs darkly at his opponent's obvious frustration. It's clear to him that not all of it is an act and he resists the urge to dance a little in glee that he managed to surprise her.

"Need any help?" he questions with amusement.

"Hardly," Marianne scoffs, reverting back to cockiness before singing the next lyric.

**_"What doesn't kill you makes you stronger! Stronger! Just me, myself, and I!"_ **

He snaps his wings open and follows her into the air as she flies at him. Their weapons clash once more with sparks as they spin around each other. As she pushes him back with her larger butterfly-like wings, Bog nearly forgets they're performing as her words ring out.

That sounded a little too real.

_**"What doesn't kill you makes you stronger! Stand a little taller! Doesn't mean I'm lonely when I'm alone!"** _

Even as they take their fight higher, circling around a support pillar as they trade blows, Bog barely manages to keep his mind on their ariel duel as he berates himself silently over his choice of song. How could he have been so stupid? What was he thinking?

After everything she's been through, especially recently, the song is probably a painful reminder of what those fools have done.

"We just started. Don't tell me you're getting tired already?" Marianne mocks as he misses blocking her attack, the metal pillar taking the blow instead.

Even as the audience laughs, Bog catches the concern shining in her amber eyes and he smiles reassuringly at her while his back is turned to the watching crowd. Maybe he was overthinking things. Maybe she just liked the song.

"Hardly," Bog scoffs back, using only one hand to swing his staff and throw her sword away from him.

**_"Ye didn't think when ye'd come back, I'd come back swinging."_ **

The audience's laughter turns into gasps of amazement and cheering as Bog locks weapons with Marianne and forces them both to spin rapidly in the air above the center ring, creating a dazzling display of color as the light reflects off both their wings.

Noticing the strain on Marianne's face once they break away from each other, Bog quickly flies above her and forces her to the ground to avoid his oncoming attack.

**_"What doesn't kill ye makes ye stronger! Stand a little taller! Doesn't mean I'm lonely when I'm alone!"_ **

Landing with her, Bog keeps attacking and forces her to walk backward with each block. Even being forced to dodge several times doesn't stop his onslaught as they near the bone throne. He hated having to cut their fun short but he's not about to make her keep pushing herself just to amuse their visitors.

She had a long day with very little sleep and it's time to end this so she can rest.

**_"What doesn't kill ye makes a fighter! Footsteps even lighter! Doesn't mean I'm over 'cause ye won!"_ **

It's his turn to hit the unique wooden chair when Marianne sits on the seat to avoid an attack. Her laughter as he has to pause to shake out his vibrating hand is echoed by the audience and he snarls in response before resuming his attempt to corner her as she sings the next lyric.

**_"What doesn't kill you makes you stronger! Stronger! Just me, myself, and I!"_ **

The advantage of Marianne's seated position becomes obvious when they lock their weapons again as Bog tries to trap her. His only warning is a smirk before he notices her rising leg and he barely manages to jump back quickly enough to avoid being kicked in the chest.

'She wants to play dirty, does she?' Bog muses.

**_"What doesn't kill ye makes ye stronger! Stand a little taller! Well, now it's time to say goodbye!"_ **

Not to be thwarted, Bog forces their weapons to cross again before twisting his staff quickly to cause her to lose her grip on her sword. He smirks when she grabs his staff in an attempt to repeat what she did last night when he disarmed her. He was hoping she'd do that.

'Perfect!' he rejoices silently, tugging the staff to force her out of the seat. He quickly maneuvers behind her and traps her between himself and the long steel weapon.

**_"Bye-bye!"_ **

Imp takes the cue for what it is and darkness consumes the big top as Marianne's frustrated scream and Bog's laugher rings out. Looks like he's the winner this time.

* * *

It's not like she's a sore loser, she's not, but Marianne can't help her scowl as Bog releases her from her imprisonment just before nodding for Imp to turn the lights back on. That song lasted far longer than that. She was just getting her second wind, too!

Stuff's sudden appearance at her side with her missing sword disrupts her thoughts and she returns the weapon to its scabbard. From the corner of her eye, she notices as Thang hands Bog his lost hat and she snickers at the ringmaster's momentarily shocked look before he places the hat back on his head. He must not have realized he lost it during their duel.

"We are very pleased ye like our little performance," Bog calls to the cheering stands before smirking widely and turning his body slightly toward her. "Although, it seems my opponent is very displeased."

The mischief swimming in his blue eyes only causes Marianne's own eyes to narrow, her annoyance at feeling slightly cheated keeping her from paying attention as the audience's cheering turns to laughter.

"What's the matter, my pretty little fairy? Goblin got yer tongue?" Bog teases.

'He asked for it!' Marianne snarls inwardly. She doesn't stop to think before grabbing Bog's quarterstaff from his slackened grip and quickly spins it to sweep the back of his legs. Within seconds, the confident and elegant ringmaster turns into a surprised and flailing mess as he falls backward to land haphazardly on the bone throne. His shocked look as he stares up at her is priceless.

"What's the matter, my fallen little goblin? Fairy got your staff?" Marianne mocks, twirling the staff before turning to address the stands. "Ladies and Gentleman, be you young, old, or forever ageless, we of the Dark Forest Circus hope that you've enjoyed your time here with us today. To you we say goodnight and wish you pleasant dreams of this magical time!"


	8. Day Two - Night

"Where's Marianne?" Bog sighs as he steps through the curtain.

He's not all that surprised when the few workers still backstage point toward the exit. He had hoped that her frightened behavior last night was caused by too much stress but he couldn't hold onto that hope now. One minute he was looking up at her as she started giving the closing speech to the audience after her sneak attack and the next minute...well, he's not exactly sure what happened.

Marianne had seemed to have been enjoying herself and the visitors had loved her. Then she froze, her wings snapping tightly against her back as the cheering continued before snapping open in quick jarring movements that carried her to the backstage curtains in seconds. She had only paused a moment to throw his staff back to him with a parting shot about him not winning next time.

The audience had assumed it was part of the routine and merely laughed as he caught the thrown weapon before continuing the usual send-off but he knew better. Something was very wrong and he really needs to talk to Marianne right now before anything else happens. She shouldn't feel as if she needs to hide from them when something bothers her. She's safe here.

Stepping forward to follow after Marianne, Bog blinks when a sudden grip on his arm tugs him back forcefully. He's even more surprised when he turns around to notice that it was Stuff who restrained him. It was odd behavior for her. He could probably count on one hand the number of times she permitted anyone to touch her, let one when she touched someone else.

"I'll go," Stuff states.

"But..," Bog starts.

"I'll deal with it! You wait!" Stuff orders sternly.

Bog quickly nods his acceptance and steps out of her way. Whatever the fae-touched woman is planning is probably better than any fumbled attempt he could come up with. She'll be able to get Marianne to confess about what is wrong better than he could anyway.

He hoped.

* * *

Placing the bastard sword back into its place, Marianne caresses the black leather-wrapped wooden scabbard once more before closing the cabinet door and locking it. Her wings twitch restlessly against their bindings and she scratches the back of her neck with a sigh.

"What am I doing?" she groans, letting her forehead fall against the wooden cabinets with a thud. "Don't mess this up!"

"I doubt you could," Stuff remarks, making Marianne jump at her sudden appearance.

She watches as Stuff invites herself into the trailer and takes a seat on one of the chairs. She hadn't even heard the door opening!

"Bog must be pretty upset with me if he sent you instead," Marianne mutters.

"Bog is upset alright but not with you. He was planning on coming himself except I told him that I'll talk to you instead," Stuff mentions. "You left in a big hurry."

"I had to put my sword away," Marianne defends.

"That excuse didn't sound valid last night and it still doesn't," Stuff scoffs before turning her eyes toward the picture-plastered fridge. "I wasn't as lucky as most of the others here. I was born in a sleazy run-down poor-excuse-of-a-circus, less lucky than any sibling I might have because I was born fae-touched, so the owner kept me instead of dropping me off at the nearest orphanage. Never learned how to read or write cause my maw didn't know how to and I don't think any of the others knew how to either but I did know that I was worth more than the trash that man kept calling all us. Whatever those in the Light Field Circus told you, they were wrong too!"

"Stuff, I'm fine. It's not...," Marianne tries.

"I know what fear looks like, kid. Been there, done that, and burned the t-shirt," Stuff quips, looking at Marianne with dry amusement. "I got out the second I had the opportunity. Might not have been the best of days right away since I didn't even know about the Dark Forest Circus back then but it was far better than the nineteen years I spent in that hellhole. You out now, too, and it might still be painful but this place is different, a good different, and no one is going to give you trouble."

"Stuff, I'm fine. Really. And it's not even about those in the Light Field Circus anyway...not entirely," Marianne amends at Stuff's disbelieving glare. "It's just something I deal with, alright. Now, you said that Bog isn't upset with me. So, he isn't mad about that whole tripping him and stealing the show?"

"Are you kidding? That was priceless," Stuff chuckles. "I think we're going to have to start recording the show or something."

"Oh, please no!" Marianne groans playfully, shaking her head at there being photographic evidence of her flirting with Bog. 'Just what I need, proof of my silliness.'

Moving to leave her trailer, Marianne breathes a sigh of relief when Stuff follows without any more mention about the previous subject. It's obvious that her answer didn't please the other woman but at least she was willing to drop it. Not like Marianne knew what to tell her anyway.

Besides, the fae-touched that weren't born in either fae-touched-owned circus had much tougher lives, so what did she have to complain about?

* * *

"...and they live happily ever after...as long as they agreed and then it wasn't so happy for a little while until they settled their argument," Marianne finishes, smiling at the laughter.

"Now that is a more realistic ending," Griselda chuckles.

"My mom always told the stories like that," Marianne mentions fondly. "Well, now that I've said the story I promised yesterday, don't you have a story to tell me? Something about what happened this morning while I was away? Bog mentioned that you got up to some mischief."

"I don't care if we did get in trouble, the mean man deserved it!" Brutus defends, getting the others' agreement.

"In trouble? Did the big bad Goblin King punish his little goblins?" Marianne asks playfully.

"More like a lecture about how violence isn't a good outlet for anger," Alan mutters, scratching the light coating of brown exoskeleton running along his neck. "A very long-winded lecture."

Marianne tries hard not to smile at the groans filling the circus fleas' tent. From the looks of the nearby adults, they too were having trouble not laughing at the longsuffering adorning the kids' faces.

"Even those of us that weren't involved got lectured. Which is totally unfair," fourteen-year-old Sara grumbles, glaring at Bog even as she heeds her father's call for bedtime and gathers her younger siblings.

"So what happened?" Marianne questions.

"They threw their pillows at Roland and Brutus kicked him in the shin. Don't encourage them!" Bog warns as Marianne starts laughing hard enough to topple over from her seated position.

"You laughed, too!" Fiona accuses. "We heard you!"

"Yes, but...um, well...it's uh," Bog fumbles.

"It's one of those things that everyone knows is not good but it's still funny to see happen to bad people," Jazz explains, taking pity on the ringmaster. "But even with it being funny, it doesn't change that it is wrong if you start believing that you have a right to express your anger by doing something like that."

"That's what GamGam said," Joshua pipes up. "She said that's because that's how the bad people think, like they have a right to do something that's bad to someone else. So if you start acting like they do, then you'll become like them."

"The mean man still deserved it," Brutus grumbles.

"That may be but you shouldn't do anything that gets yourself in trouble," Marianne comments, righting herself and picking up the disgruntled boy. "But since you've been lectured enough about why it's a bad idea to express your anger physically...how hard did you kick him?"

"Really, really hard! Mr Bog had to drag him away cause he couldn't walk," Brutus answers excitedly. "He screamed so loud too, even louder than Mr Bog can when he's yelling!"

Even the kids laugh as Bog drags a hand down his face. No amount of lecturing could take away the little boy's pride in his actions and Marianne didn't have the heart to discourage it. She only wished she could have seen it!

"But he really did deserve it, Miss Marianne," Brutus insists as Marianne carries him to his cot. "He was saying really mean things and he was misbe...beha...he was being bad."

"I believe you," Marianne soothes.

"I can't believe they actually chose a man like that to be the new owner of the Light Field Circus, though," Griselda grumbles. "Even though our circuses have been rivals, there's always been a...sort of respect between us and there was nothing respectful about him."

"That kid that came with him wasn't much better, so it doesn't seem that impossible to believe," Alan scoffs.

"Sunny is the same age as you," Marianne points out.

"Why did he say that you didn't have wings, though?" Caroline asks.

Marianne freezes mid-movement at the question, her hands clutching the blankets she was starting to lay around the youngest of the Dark Forest Circus' circus fleas. She should have known her luck wasn't good. She may have been able to avoid answering Stuff but she knew kids. There was no way for her to avoid answering them without creating undesirable consequences and there was no way she wanted to ruin the kids' trust in her.

"Miss Marianne?" Brutus questions, reaching up to gently pat her face.

"Because almost no one in the Light Field Circus knows I have wings," Marianne answers softly, cringing as she notices from the corner of her eye as the parents picking up their kids stop to stare back at her. "It's, uh, it's complicated."

"Did you get your fae-touch late or something?" Jessy asks.

* * *

The cold seeping into Bog's bones has nothing to do with the late spring night air and he exchanges a quick worried look with his mother before returning his attention to the hunched-over woman. Part of him wanted to hear the explanation but the other part...maybe he should stop this before whatever safe feeling that they managed to instill in Marianne was damaged by the kids' innocent questioning.

He starts to open his mouth but closes it as Marianne sighs and sits down on Brutus' cot. He smiles as the five-year-old crawls out of the sheets and into her lap, hugging her middle in his own attempt to comfort her. Even if the circumstances aren't ideal, he's glad Brutus is beginning to open up to more people than just him.

"I was actually born with my fae-touch, wings and all," Marianne admits, keeping her eyes on the boy on her lap.

Bog's eyebrows raise at the admission. A flighted fae-touch being born with their fae-touch was extremely unusual. He's never even heard of another one other than the woman before him.

"My grandfather was...he meant well but he was afraid and fearful people do foolish things," Marianne continues. "He thought it best that no one knew about my wings and that's what my family did."

"But you were already in the circus, so why would you being fae-touched even matter?" fifteen-year-old Quint questions, ignoring his mother's tugging.

"Mr Bog has the answer to that. It's in our first conversation," Marianne answers.

"I..I don't...," Bog starts in confusion before gasping as he replays their conversation in his head. "Ye look dark fae-touched!"

"Exactly," Marianne confirms. "Not one flighted fae-touch in the entire Light Field Circus, past or present, has wings as dark as mine. The closest would be my dad's wings but they're still lighter. My wings were much darker when I was born, too, nearly all black with how dark the purple color was then. Too light fae-touched to be dark fae-touched and too dark fae-touched to be light fae-touched."

"But you said that there isn't a difference between a dark fae-touched and a light fae-touched!" Jessy protests.

"And there isn't! There is no difference, not between light fae-touched or dark fae-touched and not between fae-touched or non-fae-touched," Marianne states before finally taking her eyes off Brutus to smile sadly at those gathered. "Unfortunately, not everyone believes that."

Quickly calling for bedtime before any more questions are asked, Bog ushers the protesting circus fleas into their cots while the circus monkeys are escorted by their parent's back to their own tents or trailers. He marvels as Marianne quickly shakes off her melancholy to assist him. Although, he hadn't missed the way she had clutched her pendant for several minutes before coaxing Brutus to return under his blankets.

"Don't stay up too late," Griselda warns, settling herself into her cot.

"I won't," Marianne murmurs amusedly at the motherly admonition. "Just a quick look at the paperwork and make sure there's nothing immediate that needs to be done."

"If you're not back here in twenty minutes, I'll drag you back," Griselda threatens.

"That won't give me much time. An hour," Marianne argues.

"Twenty-five minutes," Griselda mutters.

"Forty-five," Marianne pleads with a beseeching smile.

"Thirty-five and no more!" Griselda states firmly, laying down and closing her eyes.

"Fine. I should be able to at least get most done in thirty-five minutes," Marianne sighs.

Bog covers his mouth to muffle his laughter at the argument. His mother's mothering is hilarious when it isn't directed at him and by the snickering emanating from behind the dividing screens, the kids think so too. Calling goodnight, Bog dims the light and follows Marianne out of the tent.

"I'm sorry," he murmurs as they walk to his trailer.

"About what? Your mother? Don't be," she chuckles. "She already gave me a lecture during the girls' bath when I told her about doing some paperwork before heading to bed after she told me about the extra cot in the circus flea tent. I'm surprised you didn't hear."

"How could I hear when Brutus and Alex decided to have a splash war with me in the middle?" Bog quips, grinning at her laughter before sighing. "But that's not what I'm apologizing for. I should have stopped the kids. If you weren't ready to talk about it with Stuff then you shouldn't have felt forced to talk about it to them."

"Bog, it's fine," Marianne insists.

"It's not fine. But I guess I can't blame the kids for their curiosity. Everyone is curious, even me," he admits.

"Nothing interesting to be curious about," she chuckles, stepping into his trailer with him following after.

"You would be interesting even if ye weren't fae-touched," Bog murmurs. "If ye don't mind answering, why do ye really keep yer wings covered?"

"As I said, my grandfather thought it best to keep them a secret," Marianne answers.

"So much so that he made ye afraid to let anyone see them," he growls softly, wincing as his anger to the unknown man causes Marianne to cringe. "Why was he so afraid? Like Quint said, ye were already in the circus."

"For a few reasons actually. One being that at the time I was born we had just gotten several new arrivals from a recently closed circus. That wasn't a bad thing in and of itself but that circus entertained their guests by forcing their 'attractions' to fight against each other and a few had very severe scars caused by the owner's champion, a dark fae-touched," she explains. "Grandpa had worried that my resemblance to a dark fae-touched would...cause trouble."

As much as he hated to admit it, that did make sense why the elder DuFae would make such a decision. Even his grandfather and father had to make tough decisions when faced with a newcomer still dealing with the abuse of their previous life. A few even had to be sent away because of how aggressive they became. He hadn't yet had to do something like that himself but that didn't mean that he didn't understand that sometimes a person might have suffered too much trauma to be able to cope with their freedom.

"The other reason is a little more complicated," Marianne continues, disrupting his thoughts as she gathers the loose papers on his desk. "My mother had stayed home when the circus had left to start touring and Grandpa and my Aunt Aura had stayed behind with her. Aunt Aura is a clairvoyant and when I was born, she had a vision revolving around those of the Light Field Circus rejecting me. Since she wasn't born with the ability to keep quiet, she immediately told it to Grandpa which helped make his decision thinking to avoid the prediction. But I guess the vision still came true no matter how much they tried to make sure it didn't."

'That explains why Plum feels guilty,' Bog muses, trying to keep his face passive. He knew from experience how problematic her visions and inability to shut up were. Of course, he probably would have avoided a lot of heartache had he listened.

"What was the vision about?" he questions.

"Hard to say exactly. Aunt Aura's power is best described as wacky because they're never clear even to her. She had once described it as seeing a picture of the whole Light Field Circus but felt there was a great distance between an older me and the rest of them," she explains.

"So they assumed it was yer different wings that caused the vision," Bog mutters.

"More like I'm too different," Marianne mumbles before hastily continuing at Bog's distressed face. "But it's fine. I'm used to it."

"Being used to it doesn't make it right. Ye shouldn't have to feel ye need to hide who ye are, especially not here," he counters, placing a finger over her mouth when she starts to open it. "I mean it. Ye're safe here. We want ye to be yerself, all of ye, wings and all. It might take some time and we won't push ye to go faster than ye're comfortable but ye don't need to hide who ye are."

* * *

Gasping awake, Marianne stares up at the circus flea tent's roof for several minutes as she grabs her amethyst dragonfly pendant and tries to calm her racing heart. Even being away doesn't stop the dreams. She had hoped her nap a Chester's was just because everything was still fresh and that she'd finally be free. It sure seemed that way when she slept in Bog's bed, after all.

"I suppose not," she murmurs, moving to sit up.

A quick look at her cell phone reveals the time to be just past two in the morning and she scratches through her short hair with a sigh before putting on her boots. She knew from experience that there was no hope of getting back to sleep, so she might as well do the rest of the paperwork she hadn't been able to complete.

Her wings twitch against their bindings underneath her short-sleeve ankle-long dark blue floral-print nightgown as she tiptoes past Griselda's cot. Disturbing the motherly woman's rest would not have a good result, that much Marianne knew without a doubt. It was bad enough when she lost track of time and went past the allotted thirty-five minutes only to be forced out when Griselda stormed her son's trailer to fulfill her earlier threat.

Bog had only laughed at her predicament before fleeing to his bedroom at a grumbled complaint about him still being awake. The quick trip to her trailer to change and then to the circus flea tent made it obvious that Bog's comment about his mother while trying to explain why Yemma was missing was not just smokescreen but the absolute truth, you never wanted Griselda upset with you.

Marianne shakes her head in amusement at the memory as she finally escapes the circus flea tent and starts walking toward Bog's trailer. She hadn't been lectured that much since she first started playing on the high-wire when she was seven. It felt good.

Carefully opening the trailer door, she tiptoes over to the cluttered desk taking up the space where a sofa should have been with the intent to grab the unfinished paperwork and head back to her trailer before freezing as Bog exits his bathroom.

"Marianne?" he questions groggily, wiping his eyes before squinting at her again. "What are ye doing?"

"I'm awake, so I figured I'll just grab the paperwork and finish it in my trailer," she explains.

"Ye should be asleep. It's only...," Bog pauses a moment to look closer at the LED clock on the microwave. "It's nearly two-thirty."

"Don't worry. I usually don't sleep very long, a few hours and I'm fine," Marianne reassures.

Trying to decipher Bog's muttering would take more effort than Marianne could spare, his usual accent deepened farther by his sleepy-state. Giving another reassurance about being fine, she turns her attention back to the waiting papers and starts sorting what she's bringing with her.

She should have known not to turn her back. Bog's insistent stubbornness when Jackson arrived should have warned her. But no. She had completely forgotten that her new boss played dirty and so she's taken by surprise when a strong long arm wraps itself around her waist before its companion pushes against the back of her knees before lifting her up.

"Ye need yer sleep," Bog states sleepily but firmly. "If yer not going to stay in bed like a good girl then I'm gonna have to keep ye in bed."

His meaning is made perfectly clear as he starts walking toward his bedroom with her firmly trapped against his gray tank-covered chest. Marianne can only blink as he deposits her on the far side of his bed before stepping back slightly to stare at her for a few minutes longer before shaking his head and moving to open the closet.

"No wonder she cannot sleep," Bog mutters. "Fools, the whole lot of them. Probably don't got no brain cell to share between them."

After a few seconds of rummaging, Bog reveals the reason for his questing and throws one of his t-shirts in Marianne's direction with an order to put it on. She obeys if only to get him to go back to sleep. It's obvious to her that he's keeping awake out of a sense of taking care of her and she didn't want him to lose any sleep on her account.

She quickly removes her boots and throws them into the trailer's hallway to make it easier to pick them up once Bog's asleep. Her nightgown is next to follow, although the billowy fabric takes its time to land as it floats slowly to the ground. The borrowed shirt smells wholly of Bog as she places it over her bare form and she can't help smiling as she adjusts it before laying down on her side. A quick thought of keeping the shirt rises in her mind but she ignores it even as her wings escape their confinement through the large wing slots in the back and fan out before settling.

"Well?" Marianne asks as Bog keeps staring at her with his mouth and eyes wide open.

It takes a moment but Bog finally shakes off his stupor to settle on the bed himself, first laying on his side to give her more room before moving onto his back. Marianne smiles as he relaxes completely and soft snores start to escape him. Time to...

A large yawn forces Marianne to close her eyes and her wings twitch open as she rolls onto her stomach to rest her head on a breathing pillow with a sigh.


	9. Day Three - Morning

Bog groans as he reluctantly leaves slumberland and runs a hand down his face. Feeling resistance at trying to move the rest of him causes him to open his eyes, praying that those rascals didn't play another prank on him while he slept. He couldn't see how they would be able to tie him to the bed in his travel trailer but he didn't put it past them to be able to figure it out.

The sight that greets him is not ropes or some such material but a wild thicket of short warm brown hair laying on his chest.

"What the...!" he starts before cutting himself off.

Marianne makes no effort to relieve his confusion. Her sleeping not a bit disturbed as Bog eases himself out from underneath her and lays his pillow to substitute him. He may be a bit confused about how this came to be but he's not ruining her rest.

He quickly and quietly grabs his clothes before leaving the bedroom, nearly tripping over Marianne's boots and original nightgown. Picking up the fabric only causes the blush on his face to deepen as his mind takes him to the obvious reason for her lack of her own clothes. He shakes the notion off as he walks into the bathroom to change.

'I'm sure that's not the reason,' Bog states silently. 'There's probably a perfectly innocent explanation. I hope.'

Bog is grateful his coffeemaker is preprogrammed to turn on and quickly fixes himself a cup with the hope that the blessed brew would jumpstart his memory. Last he remembered, Marianne was practically dragged out of his trailer last night by his mother for her to get some sleep, so it's not like they got up to anything. Right?

Not like they were about to get into anything before his mother showed up but he'd gone straight to bed. So how did Marianne wind up in his bed with him and wearing his shirt? Moving to step outside to give the sleeping woman more time, the neat stack of papers on his desk grabs Bog's attention.

'Right! Marianne came in early this morning to do some paperwork.' The momentary happiness at the knowledge he didn't do anything untoward is squashed as he remembers how he carried her to bed with the intention of making her go to sleep and then giving her one of his shirts to replace that stifling tent she called a nightgown.

"Ye're a terrible man, Bog!" he groans as he steps out into the cool early morning air.

What was he thinking?! Well, he wasn't thinking and that was the problem! She needed her sleep and the obvious solution was to put her in his bed to make her go to sleep. Giving her his shirt seemed like an obvious thing to do as well. After all, even if she was used to it, her wings probably ached at being forced to keep still. That became clear when she put on the shirt and her wings emerged. It was...

"Beautiful," he sighs at the memory of her wings fanning in the moonlight.

And just like that, he's back to blushing. It's strange that for all her nervousness about her wings being exposed, Marianne had absolutely no reserve of uncovering the rest of her. At least he had managed to keep some ounce of gentlemanliness while being half-asleep but he'd completely forgot about the mirror on his closet door until he caught sight her removing her nightgown. That split-second peek before he closed his eyes will probably forever be burned into his head.

"Having trouble this fine morning?" Plum giggles.

"I don't know what ye're talking about," Bog mutters.

"Oh, I'm quite sure you do. After all, you walked the whole way over here making some rather interesting faces," she comments, laying out playing cards on her table. "I take it that you want to talk to me."

"What did ye see when Marianne was born?" he questions, sitting down on the other chair.

"She told you about that, did she?" Plum mutters morosely before sighing. "I've replayed that vision countless times trying to make sense of it. It wasn't so much what I saw but what I could feel. My beautiful Marianne, minutes old and in just a few short years, she'd feel so much pain. It seemed obvious at the time that it was her physical differences from the others but..."

"Now ye're wondering if it was yer preventive measures that caused the rejection," Bog continues at her pause.

"Jonathan and I always wondered if we did the right thing, forcing her to keep who she really is a secret," she murmurs sadly. "Annabelle wasn't in favor of it but she saw what I went through before I joined the Light Field Circus and she didn't want that for her daughter, especially from those that should accept her. It took a bit to convince Donald to go along with it because he felt that it would teach Marianne to be ashamed of who she is but he eventually relented with the same fear we all head. After all, if those of the Light Field Circus rejected her, where could she possibly go to find acceptance? And for a few years, it seemed as if it worked."

Bog keeps his silence as Plum pauses to take a drink of her tea. He had never seen this side of her in the years he's known her. She was giddy and hyper, sometimes furious and frustrated, jumping from one emotion's extreme to the next, but never sad. If it were even possible, Plum looked even more blue than normal as the pensive woman takes a few moments to collect herself.

"Marianne was always a happy child, mischievous too, not that I know where she got that from," she giggles. "Despite the wing-secret, everything was fine and we thought things would stay that way. But...well, before Jonathan died, he asked me if we did the right thing. Nothing happened per se but we both felt something...change."

"Change? How?" Bog asks.

"It was a feeling, a sense of something different happening in the Light Field Circus. It's hard to explain but it started feeling like Marianne was being excluded by the others, little by little. We couldn't pinpoint it, though!" Plum exclaims, gesturing her frustration with her hands. "Dawn was four years old at the time with her fae-touch appearing and whereas Marianne used to play with the other children, she started tagging along with Donald more or going off by herself. It wasn't until after Jonathan died did I realize what the problem was. The DuFae that were fae-touched always married another fae-touched but my sister wasn't and Marianne's apparent lack of fae-touch at seven and eight was...not taken well by the others."

"They were rejecting her because she didn't look fae-touched to them?!" he growls.

"I honestly don't know what they were thinking but from I gathered from bits of conversations here and there, that's about it for some of them," she sighs. "You know as well as I do that most fae-touched get their fae-touch before puberty unless they're not from a family with lots of fae-touched members. The DuFae family is nearly all fae-touched, so the older Marianne got without those of the Light Field Circus seeing her being fae-touched, the more it cemented in their mind that Marianne was 'normal'. Marianne was already learning from Donald everything about running the circus, her enthusiastic curiosity more powerful than Annabelle's complaints of her being too young to learn such things, and Donald, of course, was only too happy to teach his daughter everything she wanted to know, no matter how many times he was kicked into the proverbial dog-house. Heck, Marianne could've run the circus when she was nine with how eager a student she was!"

The pride swimming in the blue eyes before him didn't fool him one bit and he's not surprised when Plum reverts back to her defeated posture as she returns to her card game. Marianne isn't the only one still reeling from the poison that seeped into the Light Field Circus. He couldn't help but wonder how many more were damaged by a place that was supposed to have been a sanctuary.

"I had hoped things would change. And they did...for the worst," Plum murmurs. "That horrible accident nearly destroyed us all but Marianne rose from the ashes like a phoenix. A phoenix they keep plucking feathers from."

"Gregory!"

Bog had opened his mouth to respond to Plum but closes it with a groan at his mother's half-growl half-yell. He was in serious trouble for some reason and he didn't have a clue why. It's too early! Not only is the sun barely emerging from the eastern horizon but he only finished half his coffee and didn't even get breakfast yet.

"Yes, Mom?" he questions tentatively to the approaching angry woman.

"You have three minutes to explain why there's a girl in your bed!" Griselda warns

"Ye didn't wake her, did ye?" Bog asks.

"A girl in your bed?!" Plum mutters in shock before smiling deviously at the turn-of-events.

"No, I didn't wake her," Griselda answers, ignoring Plum's glee. "I went in to check to see if you were awake and if you knew where Marianne was since she wasn't in the circus flea tent or her trailer and I find her in your bed, asleep in one of your shirts. Explain!"

"Explain what? We didn't do anything but sleep," he defends, ignoring as Plum glares at him at the mention of exactly who was in his bed.

"No, I agree with Griselda. Why is Marianne in your bed?" Plum questions.

"To sleep, that's all!" Bog insists. "She came in my trailer early this morning to grab some paperwork to finish and I...uh, well, I kinda picked her up when she kept insisting that she didn't need any more sleep. Told her that if she wasn't going to be a good girl and stay in bed then I'll make her stay in bed."

"And the shirt?" Griselda asks.

"Ye saw her nightgown. It's no wonder she can't sleep with how constricting all that fabric must feel with the warming weather," he answers, raising an eyebrow as Plum returns to her morose state. "Plum?"

"She still can't sleep even after all this time. Dear God, when is it ever going to end?" Plum moans, rubbing her face with her hands.

"I take it she had trouble sleeping before ye left the Light Field Circus?" Bog guesses.

"Nightmares, Bog. Horrific nightmares that started six years ago, every single time she tried to sleep," Plum murmurs. "At first, she cried loudly, then the tears became silent, and then they just stopped. She became used to the pain and started sleeping less. I tried to stop her but it didn't do any good. A few hours of sleep is all those horrors let her."

"Six years ago? She dreams about her mother's death? The poor dear," Griselda mutters sadly.

"They're not about Annabelle's death," Plum corrects. "If you ever got a good look at her wings, you'd notice that the jagged edges are not natural. They should be smooth edges like Donald and Dawn's wings, and they were smooth before but they were damaged. Marianne was inside the Light Field Circus' big top when it burned down."

* * *

Marianne grumbles slightly at the sound of her cell phone ringing and reaches blindly to grab it only to come up empty. Right. She put it on Bog's desk before he grabbed her. With a yawn, she rolls out of the comfortable bed, taking only scant notice that her boots and nightgown is now neatly settled at the bottom of the bed, and hurries through the travel trailer to catch the persistent noise. If her phone was actually ringing than it is immediately important.

"Hello, Miss Vander," Marianne answers after accepting the call.

"Hello, Miss DuFae, did I wake you?" Bayley asks.

"I was about to get up, so don't worry," Marianne chuckles. "Any hope of this being a social call since this is Sunday and you're not supposed to be working?"

"Sorry, dear, no such hope. I'm working," Bayley answers.

"I was afraid of that," Marianne sighs, grateful Bog's shirt reaches past mid-thigh as she sits down. "How much do you know and how bad is it?"

"I was given a call yesterday afternoon by a C.Y.S. worker from the county the Light Field Circus is currently in and since I know of Judge Wayver's involvement with the Light Field Circus, I contacted him shortly after and he confirmed that he talked to you on Friday night," Bayley starts.

"For the record, I planned on calling you tomorrow," Marianne mutters as the other woman pauses a moment.

"Don't worry, dear, this isn't a call to lecture you," Bayley reassures before taking a deep breath. "I'm afraid I get the unpleasant duty to inform you that since your departure from the Light Field Circus there has been no basic care given to the children entrusted to the Light Field Circus."

"What!" Marianne hollers, jumping out her seat. "What do you mean...Oh God! How's Delani? He's not in the hospital, is he? Is that how you..."

"Marianne, calm down! Delani is fine! Nothing bad has happened! There was an anonymous call late Saturday morning about the children being neglected and a worker was sent to investigate," Bayley hastily explains. "As soon as the worker entered the circus grounds, he was approached by a mother who recognized him and informed him that she was just about to call C.Y.S. herself because Leland had just approached her to ask if she had any spare formula for his brother. Don't panic! They did not give Delani that formula! Leland realized it was the wrong kind and refused it."

"But Delani shouldn't be out of formula. I just bought several canisters before we left home," Marianne comments.

"Apparently, no adult seems to be interested in finding it and Leland couldn't find any but the nearly empty one," Bayley mentions. "To cut a long story short, the C.Y.S. worker was informed of the Coup D'etat and the present complications. He also inspected the care of the children and found those under working age who have been entrusted to the Light Field Circus have been fending for themselves since your departure."

"My poor babies!" Marianne moans. "No one has been taking care of them? Not even the older kids?"

"I'm afraid not. It seems the working children have been too busy keeping up with the demands of Mr Gilder to even care about the younger children," Bayley sighs. "I was contacted immediately after your father informed the worker of my precedence of the case and we spent yesterday sorting out this mess or at least most of it. I would have contacted you immediately but with the complications involved we had to proceed delicately to determine who had custody of the children."

"So, what's going to happen?" Marianne questions.

"With the Coup D'etat being a legal document, there's not much we can really do at the moment. However, since the younger children have been confirmed as being neglected, they are being removed from the circus as we speak," Bayley informs.

Biting her lips to keep any sound in, Marianne lets the tears fall steadily as wraps her fist around her pendant. Not only have her kids not been cared for but now they were being taken away from the only home some of them have ever known. How could she have failed them?! She's been so selfish! Surely, there was something she could've done to prevent this!

"Judge Wayver has informed me that he knows your location but he refused to tell me, instead telling me to ask you myself," Bayley continues. "So where do you want me to inform the workers to transfer the children to?"

"What? What do you mean?" Marianne asks waterly.

"Marianne, we're not taking the children from you," Bayley reassures softly. "This mess is not your fault and we're not about to punish you and those children for something you couldn't control. Those of the Light Field Circus have been informed that the children are being taken into custody until after the complications of the Coup D'etat are finalized but we both know they've messed up badly."

"Well, um, I'm working at the Dark Forest Circus now. I started working after I was informed of the Coup D'etat," Marianne starts, wiping away her tears.

"The Dark Forest Circus? That's perfect! I'm actually the caseworker for them as well," Bayley remarks. "Do you want me to call Bog and ask if he'll accept the children or do you want to talk to him?"

"I think I better talk to him. He, uh, he doesn't know about everything," Marianne mutters.

"You can't protect your father forever, Marianne," Bayley chides gently.

"I know," Marianne sighs sadly. "How much time do I have to talk to Bog before I call you back?"

"Twenty minutes at most before I have to inform my contact of that county where to transfer the children. Maybe more since I just got a message concerning...complications," Bayley mutters.

"Translation, Roland is having a hissy fit," Marianne snorts before freezing in horror. "Bayley, what are we going to do about the older kids? They all signed that cursed contract."

"What!? I thought it was only the adults!" Bayley growls.

"It'd take too long to explain but I have a copy of the Coup D'etat and it's everyone, including the working kids," Marianne informs.

"Crap! This just keeps getting better and better!" Bayley groans before sighing. "Okay, we'll figure that out later. Let's just get the children we can protect somewhere safe."

"Right. I'll talk to Bog and call you right back," Marianne states.

Ending the call, Marianne quickly hurries out the trailer door, praying Bog isn't too far away. She knew he would accept the kids but she isn't going to do something impulsive. She'll show Bog that she respects him and whatever decisions he makes by asking before agreeing to this.

* * *

The more he learned about Marianne's life, the more Bog's heart ached at how she suffered. Life just kept trying to beat her down. No matter how much she kept fighting, she still had to fight some more. Even here.

Bog growls in frustration and runs his clawed hand through his messy hair as he walks slowly back to his travel trailer. He doesn't know who he's angry at more, Plum for not finishing her story after dropping such a bomb or himself for how he keeps putting pressure on Marianne. Marianne should be resting and having fun after all the hell she went through but instead, he is using her to fix his problems.

Pausing a moment, he turns his face toward the early morning sun with his eyes closed and takes a deep breath as his wings twitch. What started as trying to get answers turned into more than he bargained for. He knows what he wants to do but now, he wonders if it's the right thing. Everyone that knew of his idea to make Marianne co-owner of the Dark Forest Circus was enthusiastic about it, which was practically everyone. She had impressed them all. Kind, compassionate, quick-thinking, clever, willing to do what's uncomfortable for herself for the sake of the circus and for others. What could possibly make her more perfect?

But.

Marianne was only eighteen, still a child in a sense, and she should enjoy her life, especially after everything she's been through. She shouldn't be shackled to the circus. Maybe those fools' betrayal was providence trying to free her from the pain.

They hadn't talked much last night and what they did was paperwork-related after he reassured her that she didn't have to hide who she is. He had his mind so filled with planning on how to corner Plum to talk to her that he hadn't even thought to bring up the co-ownership offer and now he's glad that he didn't.

He flicks his wings with another sigh before resuming his walk. Plum's last comment before shooing him away sure didn't offer him any reassurance. He was still reeling from the knowledge of how close he came to never knowing the incredible woman that walked into his life two days ago, his heart trembling at the fear, when the crazy aunt decided to inform him that it was clear to her from the fact that Marianne could fall back asleep meant that she felt safe around him. If anything, that only makes his anxiety worse.

What's the right decision to make?

"Bog!" Marianne calls.

Shaking off his thoughts, Bog looks up to respond before freezing completely. He had known Marianne was awake since Plum had informed him of such as the reason their conversation was over for now but he wasn't expecting this.

He can only gulp as Marianne walks quickly toward him still wearing his t-shirt and nothing else...well, not entirely nothing else since her stride gives him a quick look of her pink panties before he resolutely keeps his eyes above her shoulders. Dear lord, he's in trouble! There goes his resolve of being noble. Someone can stick a fork in him because he's done.

"I'm so glad I found you so quick!" Marianne pants as she reaches him, pausing momentarily to catch her breath.

"What is it? What's wrong, Marianne?" he questions, his hormones taking a backburner to worry.

"There's been a bit of trouble. But! You don't have to get involved if you don't want to," she explains.

"What's wrong?" Bog repeats. "Is it the Light Field Circus?"

"Yes and no. I have to explain fast because there's not much time, so hear me out," Marianne starts, waving a hand to stem off any more questions. "I just got a call from Miss Bayley Vander, a social worker both circuses apparently share, and she told me that the C.Y.S. of this county was alerted yesterday to investigate the Light Field Circus. Long story short, all ten non-working circus fleas are being removed from the Light Field Circus right now and Miss Vander was wondering..."

"Tell Miss Vander they can be brought here," he interrupts.

Any more is cut off as a happy Marianne propels herself forward with her wings to wrap her arms around him in a hug with a quick kiss to his cheek before letting go and immediately walking back toward their travel trailers with her phone already dialing the social worker's number. No force on earth could keep him from watching her departure, no matter how ungentlemanly it is.

"Man, I can't wait till my eighteenth birthday!" Alan hums excitedly from beside him.

"She's off-limits!" Bog growls, smacking the teenager's shoulder hard.

"Greedy goblin," Alan mutters.

Bog scoffs at the pest who was more like a younger brother to him before turning his attention back to Marianne. He knows he really needs to inform the others of the pending arrivals but...a few more seconds won't hurt.

He takes a sharp breath as Marianne walks past the big top's morning shadow and steps into the full light. From Alan's hitched gasp, the younger man sees the same thing and Bog gulps down the bile wanting to rise at the illuminated sight of Marianne's scarred legs. It was one thing to hear Plum say it but a whole nother thing to actually see evidence of Marianne's brush with a fiery death. The damage must have been bad for the scars to still be so red after six years with the worst of it centered on her feet and ankles. She must have been walking through the fire.

"Tough girl," Bog murmurs, his smile widening at Alan's stunned agreement. What was he so worried about? If what she's been through couldn't break her, nothing will.

* * *

Marianne holds her breath as she watches the screen of her multifunction printer. She always hated this part of using the fax, especially with time being of the essence. There was always the chance of the message not going through when in such a spotting reception area. Finally!

"Did it come through alright?" Marianne asks after answering her ringing cell phone.

"Seems so," Dayley hums before groaning. "Well, that's not good. What a mess!"

"The paper or the situation?" Marianne chuckles.

"Stupid people being stupid," Dayley mutters. "This is going to be hell on the paperwork."

"I know the feeling," Marianne groans. "So, what do you suggest?"

"I'm not sure at the moment," Dayley admits, the rustling sound indicating her rifling through papers.

A knock on her trailer door startles Marianne and she quickly bids Griselda to enter after she asks. She pays no mind to the woman's startled look or her rushing to close the door as Dayley sighs heavily. Whatever the social worker was thinking is probably not something good.

"You're not going to like this," Dayley starts.

"When a sentence starts like that, I'm probably not. Give it to me straight," Marianne remarks.

"I think the best course of action is to send the children that have homes back home. I know they're at the circus for a reason but you're not going to be able to care for them at the present time," Dayley explains.

"And those that don't have homes? Those the Light Field Circus has full custody of?" Marianne questions quietly.

The silence is deafening as even Griselda holds her breath. There was only one course of action and all three women knew it.

"I'll make sure they're sent back here and when the circus is done touring, they can be returned to you," Dayley reassures after a moment.

"Can you keep them together?" Marianne asks.

"Unfortunately, no," Dayley sighs. "All the foster care available at the moment able to take them in, even temporarily, can only take in one child. I'm sorry, Marianne."

"No, it's not your fault. I know you're trying the best you can," Marianne assures. "I have triplicate copies of all the kids' files, do you want me to give the workers dropping off the younger kids a set?"

"That would be a blessing if you would. Saves me from faxing every single paper. I'll inform my contact of the decided course of action and talk to you tomorrow unless something comes up," Dayley informs before saying her goodbyes.

Marianne's grateful that Griselda keeps silent after she ends the call and sets her cell phone away from her. The sorrow turns to rage and Marianne can't help the yell as she slams her fists down against the cabinet, her wings flaring in the small space.

'How could they have done this?!' Marianne screams silently before sinking to the ground as sorrow crashes back over her. She barely pays attention to the loving arms gathering her against the motherly woman as tears fall once more. Everything she worked so hard to prevent is coming to pass and there is nothing she can do to stop it.

"It's alright. Everything is going to be okay," Griselda soothes.

"Probably not for a long time," Marianne counters, sniffling once more before pulling back from the embrace and wiping away her tears. "Sorry. Was there something you needed?"

"Bog told me about the Light Field Circus circus fleas being sent here and I wanted to know what we needed for them. They are still being sent here, right?" Griselda questions.

"Yes, they are. The C.Y.S. workers just finished collecting their belongings and will be on their way shortly. That was...Miss Vander and I were trying to figure out what to do with the working circus fleas. She hadn't known that they too signed the Coup D'etat until I told her during the first call," Marianne explains.

"Are they taking them today as well?" Griselda asks.

"Not until tomorrow. They're trying to abide by the Coup D'etat before they take the working circus fleas since they are alright," Marianne answers. "It was the younger circus fleas that were basically fending for themselves, no one taking the time to take care of them. Miss Vander didn't say how bad it was but the workers just had to threaten to call for police back-up if Roland kept trying to interfere with their jobs."

"He's more of an idiot than I thought," Griselda mutters.

"I knew he was an idiot and I still overestimated his level of intelligence," Marianne quips before sighing. "They managed to get the kids' personal belongings after the threat but not their beds, so we're going to need nine more cots and a crib."

"A crib? You have a baby circus flea?! Griselda questions worriedly.

"Miss Vander assured me that Denali is alright," Marianne reassures, smiling at the other woman's sigh of relief. "Leland, his eleven-year-old brother, has been taking care of him. Oh, that reminds me. I'm going to need someone to buy formula for Denali. He's severely lactose intolerant, so he needs a special formula or there's a high chance of him being hospitalized. I'd do it myself but I need to be here when they bring the kids."

"Write a list of what you need and I'll have Greg pick them up when he goes to buy the extra cots," Griselda informs.

Nodding, Marianne quickly grabs a pad and writes down the name of Denali's formula before adding more things. She doesn't know exactly what the kids were able to take with them but it's better to be safe than risk having to send someone out again closer to opening time. It'll take a while just to get to the only store in the area that's open on Sundays, anyway.

"There's no need for that. Bog has already said that he'll cover the cost for anything the children need," Griselda comments as Marianne removes a large sticker-decorated cash box from the hidden safe.

"It's nice of Bog to offer but they are my responsibility," Marianne states firmly.

"You don't have to shoulder all the responsibility yourself anymore, dearie," Griselda murmurs.

That was another thing that she is going to have to get used to. 'It's not a bad thing,' Marianne admits silently.

"Also," Griselda starts with a chuckle. "You might want to get dressed before you think about arguing with Bog over who's footing the bill."

Right. She was in the middle of dressing when Dayley asked if she could fax the copy of the Coup D'etat. Good thing it wasn't Bog who stopped by...not that she would entirely mind.

Griselda's evolving laughter makes it obvious that her thoughts are known to the motherly woman and Marianne doesn't bother trying to suppress the rising blush as she quickly finishes pulling on her black leggings. Opening the closet, she snickers herself as Griselda shakes her head in exasperation when she sees that she really does have a few dozen copies of the same shirt. After all, why mess with perfection?


	10. Day Three - Afternoon

Chaos. Utter and complete chaos. That was the only way to describe what she is seeing. Just what is her life coming to! Marianne ducks just as a foot flies over her head and she debates whether she wants to enter the war zone or retreat and let the armies tire themselves out.

"What happened?" Marianne questions dully.

"I'm not sure exactly," Griselda mutters. "They were getting along so well while we were cleaning up from lunch but then I heard arguing when I took Alex to the bathroom. I left him with Camilla and walked in to see this."

The sound of the dividing screens falling to the ground causes Marianne to pinch the bridge of her nose between two fingers. She's glad that she put Denali in Bog's trailer for his nap before she went to help open the circus for the last day or they'd have a screaming nine-month-old added to the cacophony. As it is, it's a miracle that no visitors can hear the growls and yells.

"Leland?" Marianne asks the nearby boy.

"It's Nisha's fault, she said...," Leland answers before stopping sharply.

"Nisha said?" Marianne prods.

"She's wrong and even she knows it!" Leland states instead.

"Leland, what did Nisha...," Marianne starts until she catches a certain word from one of the arguing children. "THAT'S ENOUGH!"

Marianne doesn't bother acknowledging the frozen children as she storms toward the culprit. Her kids knew she had no tolerance for certain things and the fact that it was one of her kids calling the other kids a freak only made her all the more angrier. Twelve-year-old Horace gulps before trying to take to the air, only for Marianne to grab his ankle and pull him back to the ground. He pouts as his pink and tan moth wings get confined under the 'time-out' shirt and Marianne places him on a cot.

"You know better. The past three days are no excuse for that kind of behavior, so you will stay there until I'm no longer angry at you and then we'll talk about your punishment," Marianne comments.

"But you can run away and leave us," thirteen-year-old Nisha scoffs.

"Marianne didn't run away!" Jessy defends instantly.

"Jessy, Nix, and I were in the big top when they called her and we all heard your dumb adults kicking her out," Caroline adds, thirteen-year-old Nix nodding along.

"They didn't kick her out," twelve-year-old Gordan argues. "She left because they didn't want her to be the owner of the circus."

"Shows what you know!" Fiona growls.

Whistling shrilly to stop the arguing, Marianne cringes apologetically as even Griselda is forced to cover her ears at the sharp sound. The wide eyes staring at her instantly turn to the ground at her stern glare.

"Clean up this mess. Now!" Marianne orders sharply before kneeling next to a cot to pull a sniffling Brutus from underneath it. "It's alright, Brutus."

"They're meanies! Big meanies!" Brutus sniffles, curling tight against her chest.

Marianne sighs sadly as the sniffles evolve into crying and the little boy's claws scratch her skin as he tries to hide against her. He must have gotten caught in the crossfire and not have been able to escape out of the tent as several others were able to. A fate that Marianne notices another had shared as her position allows her to catch a glimpse of another hidden small body. A sharp glare to Nisha causes the girl to flutter her tangerine and white bird-like wings and scratch the back of her neck before studiously keeping her eyes down on the pillows she's collecting.

Moving to the other side of the circus fleas' tent, Marianne coaxes the whimpering four-year-old Libby out from underneath one of the new cots. The shimmering light purple-skinned girl hesitates only a moment before curling up next to the crying boy and giving in to her own tears as Marianne carries them both to Griselda's rocking chair for her to sit down.

_**"Don't worry about a thing,"**_ Marianne starts singing softly as she rocks. **_"Cause every little thing is gonna be alright. Don't you worry about a thing cause every little thing is gonna be alright. Woke up this morning, smiled at the rising sun. Three little birds perched by my doorstep, singing sweet songs of melodies pure and true, saying, this is my message to you. Don't worry about a thing cause every little thing is gonna be alright. It's gonna be alright."_**

Slowly the crying turns back to sniffles and whimpers before soft sighs emit from the pair and they loosen their tight grip. Marianne rolls her eyes as the pair finally acknowledge the child beside them and glare at the other for intruding on their 'Marianne time'. A quick soft tap from her hands ends the glaring contest but they both turn their heads so they don't have to look at the other.

"No need for that," Marianne chides, not entirely able to keep her amusement out of her voice. "Come on, hug and make up."

"They were mean!" Brutus growls.

"They too loud!" Libby whines.

"Oh, I think everyone is at fault for this mess," Marianne comments. "So, we're going to talk this out and settle it. Don't you think, Nisha?"

The thirteen-year-old shifts uncomfortably as the tent's occupants turn their attention to her. Looking to the others is no help as Horace interjects and says that she can explain since she started it.

"It wasn't my idea! Kishan and the others said it!" Nisha defends.

"Kishan and the others aren't here, now are they? They didn't try offering to come with us when the people took us, too worried about their new jobs to care about us," Horace sniffles, rubbing at his cheeks defiantly against the tears.

"Kishan cares! And besides, we'll be going back tomorrow, so why would they have to come with us?" Nisha counters, crossing her arms and sticking her nose up.

"That's not the way it works, dear," Griselda murmurs.

"Huh? What do you mean?" Gordan questions.

"What Mrs Griselda means is that you aren't returning to the Light Field Circus," Marianne explains. "When those in the Light Field Circus signed that paper they signed, they closed the circus down. There will be no more Light Field Circus after tomorrow."

* * *

Marianne sighs as she stretches once more before starting to climb the ladder in front of her. It's hard to tell if her tenseness came from what she's about to do or that long talk with the children. Probably the talk. Scratch that, it was definitely the talk. She already knew Bog wouldn't be upset.

The kids hadn't taken the news of the Light Field Circus' pending closure well. That even included the Dark Forest Circus kids. They had known that what the adults of the other circus had done was bad but they didn't realize it was that bad. Explaining the situation to the assortment of ages in a way that they could understand had been a team effort between all of them and a flood of tears was their reward.

The worse came afterward when the kids tried to think of ways to fix the problem and she had to reject the ideas as gently as possible so as not to discourage them. It had filled her with pride seeing them work together, even if it was a bit painful that her kids had such little faith in her, as if she hadn't already tried to think of every possible way to prevent this from happening.

She couldn't blame them. They were only kids, after all. Which she reminded them of, with the added mention that this was an adult's problem to solve and that they were only told because the end result affected them as well.

Walking onto the tightrope, Marianne tries to force her mind off the matter but it's hard to do. It had settled deep into her heart and she couldn't help wondering if she was right. Maybe those in the Light Field Circus had done the right thing. Maybe she shouldn't have done everything she did. Or maybe she should have done it differently. Maybe...

"Ready?" Marianne calls, shaking off her thoughts.

"Yeah!"

Winking at the watching children, she steps off the tightrope to catch the wire in her gloved-hands and swings herself around. The rushing air blocks out everything else and she revels in the feeling of freedom as she propels herself upward. Her wings ache to be free of the confining coat but she easily ignores them as she twirls in the expanse of air while freefalling, catching the wire at the last second. She gladly gives herself over to the punishing rhythm her nerves scream to her. Swinging, propelling, dancing, falling, catching. Repeat. Again and again.

* * *

Bog smirks as he watches Marianne perform for the enraptured children and their keepers. He's not sure how it led to this but he doesn't mind the repeat performance of Marianne's incredible high-wire routine. Good thing he noticed the group sneaking into the big top and decided to check it out.

"Enjoying yerself, Mom?" he questions as he sneaks up on her.

"I still think we should talk to Marianne about adding this to the show," Griselda comments, barely glancing up at him before returning her attention to the performance.

"Don't ye think she has enough work?" Bog chides.

"Anyone with eyes can see that this isn't work to her," she counters. "Besides, I think this is more of a catharsis than anything."

Giving a sharp look to the shorter woman beside him, Bog quickly scans the faces of the watching children. They seemed happy to him. A big difference from several hours earlier when the C.Y.S. workers pulled into the circus grounds to deliver the frightened and crying children. The sight of Marianne had quickly changed their gloom as they rejoiced over seeing her and Marianne had barely been able to keep from dropping the boxes she was carrying when the children swarmed her. It was a bit hectic afterward convincing the children to let Marianne go and eat the prepared breakfast but they managed to do so after promising she wouldn't go far.

"Is it one of the children or the mess back in the Light Field Circus?" Bog asks quietly.

"A mix of both," Griselda answers, motioning him to follow her a short distance from the children before continuing. "When Marianne went to help open, the kids had gotten into an argument that escalated badly. She stopped them but...well, it seems that the general idea at the Light Field Circus is that Marianne ran away from the Light Field Circus because they didn't want her to be the owner, not that they kicked her out."

"Seriously?!" Bog growls.

"From what we managed to get out of the kids old enough to understand, they and the working kids are under the impression that Marianne's only job was to take care of them and that she kept interfering with her father's job," she continues. "The kids also didn't know what a Coup D'etat contract really does. They thought it was harmless and that it was just transferring the circus from Donald DuFae to that Roland fellow. So, we had to explain to them what it really is, including the part about the Light Field Circus closing, and that resulted in an even longer explanation that basically revolved around it not being anywhere near Marianne's fault that this happened despite what the other adults said. Probably would have lasted longer but she distracted them by mentioning to do this."

That first part he already knew thanks to hearing those horrible messages left on Marianne's cell phone but it didn't make the situation any better that those kids brought that hate with them. He thought taking the Light Field Circus circus fleas in was a good idea but if they are no better than the adults, maybe it wasn't such a good thing. There is no way he is going to let the poison that infected the other circus infect his. Bog resists running his hand through his hair in frustration and restlessly passes his quarterstaff between his hands instead.

"I know they're just kids but I'm not gonna tolerate any trouble," he warns. "What do ye think I should do, Mom?"

"Wait for now," Griselda sighs. "Maybe talk to Marianne. We don't know these children but she does. She'll know if this is their normal attitude or if it's just what's been happening for the past few days that's caused it and they're just parroting what they've heard."

Giving his agreement, Bog returns his attention to Marianne's performance, his concern growing as he notices how fast she's going. He's getting the uneasy feeling that the kids had unintentionally hurt Marianne further. His wings twitch open as she swings around the wire once more and he joins her in the air on her upward momentum, easily joining her dance before taking ahold of her to land them both on the ground.

"Sorry to interrupt but ye wouldn't want to tire yerself out before our performance and lose again so quickly, now would ye?" he teases.

"You cheated! I wasn't anywhere near done," Marianne huffs, poking his chest and stepping away from his hold.

"So says ye but last night says otherwise. I won fair and square," Bog gloats.

"Now, now, you're two are setting a bad example for the children," Griselda chides, pushing the two farther away from each other. "Go flirt in private."

"Mom!" Bog yells, staring incredulously at the smirking woman.

"Yes, sweetheart?" Griselda questions innocently.

Shaking his head, Bog covers his face with his free hand and reminds himself to breathe. Sometimes he worried about her. Surely, this wasn't normal.  
He shakes off his embarrassment to order the kids to return to the living area but the blushing returns full force at his mother's sly look when he stops Marianne from joining the group. It doesn't help when the older kids from both circuses start taunting them by singing 'K.I.S.S.I.N.G.' at the top of their lungs. Even his usual fake-threat of sending his circus fleas back home if they don't behave doesn't work.

"Early bedtime if you're not back to the circus flea tent in one minute," Marianne threatens.

Bog laughs as the kids quickly run through the backstage curtains with their keepers in laughing pursuit. He's going to have to remember that one.

"What did you need to talk about?" Marianne asks once she's sure the coast is clear.

"Mom mentioned about the Light Field Circus kids causing some trouble," Bog starts slowly. "Tell me honestly, is this normal behavior for them?"

"Hard to answer," she admits. "They're kids, so they're always up to some kind of trouble and added with everything going on, they might act out a little."

"A little? Marianne, Mom didn't tell me exactly what happened but it's obvious that it's bothering ye, so it wasn't no little thing," he growls.

"It's not their fault. It's mine," Marianne sighs, hugging herself and adverting her eyes from him as one hand starts rubbing her pendant. "None of this would have happened if I had just done something."

He ignores the ache of his teeth as he grinds his jaw in anger but he doesn't ignore his desire to comfort the hurting woman. Letting go of his golden quarterstaff, Bog places both hands on her shoulders and forces her to face him, even as they both flinch at the ringing sound of metal hitting ground.

"This is not yer fault! None of it!" he states firmly.

"You don't know that. All you know is what I've told you and it's obvious that I was blind to a lot. I could have stopped this," she mutters.

"How?" Bog questions harshly, swallowing thickly as her startled eyes look into his. "What could ye have done?"

"I...I...I don't know but something! Maybe if I was more open! Talked more! Anything!" Marianne rushes out. "I could've just..."

"Just what?" he prods as she stops.

"Done something," she whimpers. "It's my fault this mess happened. Can't you see that, Bog? Even my own kids know it."

Bog pulls Marianne against him in a desperate hug. It pained him to see the renewed tears shining in her amber eyes and he couldn't bear it any longer. He should have known that just two days wouldn't fix what those fools damaged. He couldn't really blame the kids since it's obvious that they did love her by how happy they became at seeing her here. They probably didn't even realize that she was hurting.

"This is not yer fault. They chose this. Ye didn't force them to," he murmurs.

"They made their decision without knowing all the facts, facts that I never told them, so how isn't it my fault?" Marianne counters into his chest.

"Did they ever try to understand? No excuses!" Bog warns as her mouth opens. "Ye already said that Roland wasn't interested in yer duties and never bothered to help ye but what about the others? Did even one of those that signed that cursed contract ever try doing even one single duty that they complained about ye doing?"

Her silence creates a deafening vacuum in the large enclosure as even the circus noise seems to fade around them. The answer is obvious to Bog and it made him sick. As if what he knew on Friday wasn't bad enough and as if the answers he received earlier today and on Saturday couldn't get worse, this was...unimaginable.

"None of this is yer fault. Whether ye could have done something differently or not, it's not yer fault. Ye're a child, for God's sake! I'm merely stating the fact of yer age from before two days ago!" Bog defends hastily at her heated glare and breathing a sigh of relief when she relinquishes. "I know I don't know everything that happened and ye don't have to tell me but that doesn't change that is is not yer fault or yer failure. It's theirs and theirs alone."

"How are you so sure about that?" Marianne questions softly. "Maybe I just took too much on myself and never gave them a chance to. Maybe I pushed too hard."

"If it's yer fault that they never took responsibility like the adults they are then how come in just the three days ye've been gone and they've been in full charge, they have managed to run the Light Field Circus into the ground?" Bog counters dully, trying not to smirk at her look of surprise. "It's obvious to everyone that without ye that circus is nothing. Just one day by themselves proved that. Another example of how inept they are at trying to handle the things that ye used to do is how they didn't even bother taking care of the circus fleas. Had ye not fed them breakfast before ye left the Light Field Circus' circus grounds, those kids would not have had any food but scraps they managed to get for themselves until the C.Y.S. workers got them something to eat yesterday. And let's not forget the bath we had to give them this morning after breakfast since even doing something that simple was too hard for a bunch of grown adults to do."

"That's not...I mean, maybe it's...you see, since Mom...and...," she tries.

"I know the pain of losing someone unexpectedly and all the trouble the pain can cause. This is the first year since Dad died that Mom toured with the circus, after all, so I'm not blaming yer father. But the others have no excuse," he murmurs. "Whatever happened that caused them to lay all the responsibility on ye is their failure as adults. None of it was ever yer fault."

"Bog, I...," Marianne starts.

"There you are, Bog! I've been looking all over for...am I interrupting something?" Thang questions.

Bog withholds the groan wanting to emerge and turns his attention to the shorter man walking through the main entrance. Thang wasn't an idiot by any standards, having earned two teaching degrees before returning to the Dark Forest Circus to teach the circus children, but there were times when he could be a problem. Like now, where instead of saying what he was trying to find him for, he stands staring at them with his mouth open and a rising blush.

Turning his attention back to Marianne, Bog opens his mouth but shuts it quickly as he finally understands the other man's reaction and a renewed blush paints itself on his own cheeks. Marianne apparently notices the same thing and quickly separates from her position nestled against him before smoothing her clothes with her eyes adverted from both men.

"Yes, Thang?" Bog prods after clearing his throat and picking up the fallen quarterstaff.

"Uh, yes, what?" Thang starts before shaking his head quickly. "Oh, yes, right! Gob caught a teenager trying to sneak into the living area from the forest and he wants to know if you want to deal with it or hand him over to the police for trespassing. I didn't get a good look at him but he looks light fae-touched."

* * *

Marianne keeps pace beside Bog despite her urge to run. She knows she should probably hide in case this isn't what she thinks it is but from Thang's description of the teenager, she doubted Roland and the others were involved. The spiked black hair and darker skin confirm her suspicions as they pass the last tent.

"You're in a lot of trouble, Kishan," Marianne scolds.

"Ma...Marianne?!" Kishan stutters, looking up at the approaching trio. "Marianne! I didn't know you were here!"

"That's kinda the point," she quips. "But more to the point is the fact that you're not supposed to be here. Especially not sneaking in like a common thief!"

"One of yers, I take it?" Bog guesses, nodding to the chagrined teenager.

"Yep," Marianne confirms. "What are you doing here, Kishan?"

"They took Nisha, said they were bringing her here, so I...uh...," Kishan starts before trailing off and kicking the duffle bag nearby.

"You ran away and were planning on taking Nisha with you," she states more than guesses, sighing as she pinches the bridge of her nose. "Kishan!"

"It's not like they'll notice I'm missing," Kishan mutters. "Besides, you ran away."

Waving off the starting protests as Bog, Thang, and Gob open their mouths to defend her, Marianne stares hard at the fifteen-year-old before nodding determinedly to herself as she replays Bog's recent conversation with her in her mind. Maybe there was nothing she could have done to change what happened.

But.

That didn't mean she had to keep doing things the way she's always done. Things are different now and she didn't have to take all the burden upon herself.

"If you don't need me, Bog, Kishan and I are going to have a talk," Marianne murmurs.

"Marianne," Bog mutters worriedly.

"Don't worry, we should be done before the big top opens," she reassures.

"I already told ye that if ye don't want to perform then ye don't have to, so ye know that's not what I'm worried about," he remarks.

"And miss the chance to beat you in public again? Ha, not likely," Marianne teases. "I'll join you as soon as Kishan and I are done. Come on, bandar."

Marianne laughs as Kishan grumbles about his mother's old nickname for him as Gob unties him. As far as she is concerned, he is never too old to be called a mischievous monkey, especially when he pulls stunts like this.

"So, you perform here?" Kishan asks after grabbing his duffle bag and following her to her trailer.

"Final act in the big top," she answers.

"You never performed at the Light Field Circus," he mutters.

"Gee, I wonder why? Don't you know the answer to that? I mean, you did sign the Coup D'etat that basically said you didn't want me in the Light Field Circus anymore, after all," Marianne remarks.

"That's not what it meant!" Kishan argues. "It just said that Roland will be the owner instead of it going over to you when your father retires after you turn eighteen."

"Kishan, did I not thoroughly explain what the Coup D'etat was when you got old enough to work there?" Marianne questions sharply, getting a nod. "And you weren't at all concerned over how bad things would be when you signed your name?"

"Things wouldn't have gotten bad if you didn't leave us," he grumbles.

"And tell me, Kishan, what was I supposed to do? Stay there and do nothing? How's that different from being here and doing nothing as far as the Light Field Circus is concerned?" she asks.

"You took the papers they needed, Roland said so," Kishan accuses.

Opening her trailer door, Marianne ushers Kishan inside before following and shutting it firmly behind her. She notices his sharp look to the Coup D'etat copy laying on her table but ignores it to unlock her filing cabinets. Grabbing Kishan's own employee file, she hands it to the stunned teen.

"This is just a copy of the original file. Every single file in this trailer is just copies and to fulfill the Coup D'etat, you need the originals," she informs.

"Then where are the original files?" Kishan questions.

"Back home where they always are, in the office you pass every time you head to the kitchen," Marianne answers. "I've never put the original files in here. They've always stayed home."

"But then that means...well, if you had stayed instead of running away, then we would have known it earlier and Roland could've fixed this," he argues.

"Is that what you really think? You really think I would destroy the Light Field Circus and everyone in it on purpose?" she growls.

"I don't know what to think," Kishan mumbles. "They've been saying a lot of things for the past few weeks and they made so much sense before. I mean, you did cancel your wedding to Roland at the last minute for no reason, so what's to say you could handle owning the circus once it's yours?"

"As I said to Sunny on Friday, how does me having enough brains to realize that I wasn't ready to get married be a good enough reason to sign that cursed contract? You wouldn't even be with the circus if your mother had the sense not to marry that jerk even after he hit you," Marianne remarks before grimacing at Kishan's wince. "I'm sorry, Kishan, I shouldn't have brought that up. That was uncalled for."

"Maybe not entirely uncalled for," he mutters, absentmindedly touching the scarred-hole through his left long pointed ear.

Marianne runs her hand through her hair in frustration. She had let her anger get the best of her and took it out on Kishan. Time to call an end to this before she does something she'll really regret.

"Hold still!"

"I'm trying! Why don't you just use your wings?"

"Because she'll hear me! Duh!"

Rolling her eyes at the strained whispering, Marianne opens her trailer door and stares at the two kids trying to peer into her trailer's window with her eyebrow raised.

"I can also hear you talking," she comments to Nisha sitting on top of Jessy's shoulders. "I thought you were supposed to be in the circus flea tent."

"We were!" Jessy defends. "But then Mrs Griselda noticed someone walking with you and..."

"It sounded like Kishan, so I wanted to see if it was and Jessy offered to help," Nisha explains.

"You told Mrs Griselda that you couldn't remember where the bathrooms were and volunteered me to show you," Jessy corrects with a glare.

"Little weasel," Nisha mutters.

"Yes, it is Kishan, and no, you can't see him right now," Marianne informs. "We're not done talking, so get back with the others and stay there."

"But...," Nisha starts.

"Now or you're on clean-up duty like Horace," Marianne threatens.

She snickers as Jessy doesn't bother waiting for Nisha to climb off his shoulders before hastily walking back to the circus flea tent with her trying not to fall. Returning her attention back to Kishan, she sighs at his stricken look as he looks over his contract.

"I'll ask Mr Kingly if you can stay the night but I will have to call Miss Vander to tell her where you are," she mentions. "We'll figure everything out later, alright? Go join your sister before she drives everyone to the moon. And don't bring up anything Light Field Circus related. I won't be able to protect you if you cause any trouble."

"I won't cause any trouble," Kishan promises, smiling weakly as he hands back the folder.


	11. Day Three - Evening

Checking the crowded stands once more from her place behind the backstage curtains, Marianne signals the working teenagers about the time before returning her attention to her present conversation.

"I really don't know, Griselda," Marianne sighs. "Everything's been happening so fast and there's been no real time to actually think about anything. I guess all we can do is wait for tomorrow and deal with it as it happens."

"That sucks," Yemma mutters. "Although, I gotta wonder what they were thinking. I've been with the circus for almost three years and even I know the Coup D'etat is a bad idea. What possessed them to think that it'd work?"

"Roland could sweet talk a starving bear out of honey if he tried to. Hell, he even managed to convince me that he loved me when I knew almost everything about him, so it could be they aren't really thinking at all," Marianne mutters, rubbing her dragonfly pendant.

"While he doesn't hold a candle to my Loch, it probably doesn't help that the creep isn't bad on the eyes," Griselda admits.

Marianne bites her lip to keep from laughing at the affronted looks adorning several men backstage as Griselda's comment gets agreement from a few women. Greg doesn't help matters when he decides to remind his wife that he's clearly the better choice and the resulting giggling causes Bog to look toward the backstage at the noise. She waves off the unspoken question with an amused smile pointed at the unseen couple.

"What makes it worse is that after talking to Kishan, I realized that I still have the Light Field Circus' city permit in my truck," Marianne remarks.

"Oy vey!" Griselda groans, dropping her head into her hands.

"You're not going to get into trouble, are you?" Thang questions.

"Not me but they're sure gonna be," Marianne answers. "I hadn't even thought about it until the city's mayor called me to ask what was going on. Apparently, she was called in today because of multiple complaints, the C.Y.S. situation, and...a few other things. It's why it took me so long since I had to explain everything that's going on."

"They really did dig their own grave, didn't they?" Stuff asks rhetorically with a shake of her head.

Noticing the last act winding down their routine, Marianne pushes away the sorrow and quickly informs Stuff and Thang of the change of plans toward the final act. It wouldn't be fair if they didn't create some kind of mischief for their beloved ringmaster, after all. Their own laughter accompanies her as she rushes to her new starting point after discarding her amethyst black-trimmed duster into Griselda's keeping. She already informed Imp of her plans before the big top opened, so she knows the light and sound technician would faithfully perform his end.

She keeps herself hidden in what little shadow is available as she sneaks through the big top's main entrance. Instead of using the same spot she had done yesterday, she continues her trek behind the stands to the circus kids' private stands.

"Mama?" Libby questions as she notices her quick dash through the small gap between the stands.

"Shh," Marianne hushes with a wink.

The Dark Forest Circus kids try to keep their laughter quiet so as not to alert anyone but it's nearly made worse by several older teens trying to cover the mouth of a few loud gigglers. Luckily, the nearby sentry moves nearer to the front to keep Marianne hidden from Bog as he glances toward them before rising to announce their act.

"Just watch and see," Alan chuckles as the Light Field Circus kids ask about what's happening.

"And now! With the greatest pleasure, I present the grand finale of tonight's performance, the closing act of our memorable time in your magnificent city! Without further ado, I...," Bog starts.

"Sire!" Stuff yells, running toward the center ring with Thang beside her. "News from the bor..."

"Tea's ink been spayed!" Thang announces prematurely.

"What?" Bog asks, his confusion entirely real as the audience roars with laughter.

"Tea's ink been spayed!" Thang repeats urgently, ignoring as even Stuff looks at him as if he's grown two heads when he wails dramatically. "Poor Tea's ink! You have to go at once and stop it!"

"Stop what? Oh, nevermind! I'll figure it out myself!" Bog growls as he quickly turns from the laughing onlookers to hide his own growing laughter.

"Nailed it!" Thang sings proudly as Bog walks through the backstage curtains.

"Are you kidding me?! What is wrong with you? That wasn't the message at all!" Stuff growls.

"Yes, it was!" Thang yells.

"No, it wasn't!" Stuff denies.

"It totally was!" Thang argues.

"It completely wasn't!" Stuff states firmly, crossing her arms and glaring at the shorter man.

"Oh, yeah, then what was it?" Thang huffs with his webbed hand on his hips, glaring back at the taller woman.

"The king's been played!" Marianne punctuates loudly as she walks past the arguing pair.

Marianne's smirk grows as those watching laugh harder as she walks straight up the bone throne before sitting carelessly on it with her crossed legs over one armrest and her back supported by the other armrest with her wings draping to the ground. The arguing pair had played the audience well as it seemed that no one had really taken notice of her approach until she wanted them to. Perfect!

Withdrawing her sword from its scabbard, she points the flat edge as if she's checking her makeup, angling it to see the backstage entrance in the reflection. Bog's surprised expression as he turns around to look back into the big top makes the slight guilty feeling that she may have worried him disappear. 'Totally worth it!'

"Do something!" Stuff orders Thang, gesturing to the lounging intruder.

"Uh...well...," Thang fumbles.

"What do ye think ye're doing?" Bog demands as he lands near to the bone throne's platform.

"Making myself comfortable," Marianne remarks. "Although, I must say, you should think about adding some cushions to this thing. No wonder you're such a grumpy goblin."

Bog's smirk accompanies the surrounding laughter but instead of exchanging more banter, he switches his quarterstaff to his left hand and snaps his fingers on his right hand. Music immediately floods the big top's speakers and Marianne can't help her look of confusion at the sound of a guitar and drums. That wasn't the right song. It's supposed to be trumpets.

**_"Well, if ye're looking for trouble, ye've come to the right place! Yeah! If ye're looking for trouble, just take a look at this face!"_ **

'It is the right song! How'd he find this version?' Marianne wonders as he starts walking closer with swinging arcs of his staff before slamming the base of it on the platform. She smirks in amusement at his attempt at being intimidating as he menacingly stalks closer to her lounging form. The big and bad Goblin King. 'Yeah, right! He's too much a softie for me to take this persona seriously.'

**_"Because I'm evil! My middle name is misery! Yes, I'm evil! So don't mess around ye with me!"_ **

Gripping her sword properly, she's ready when he takes a testing swing at her and easily blocks his weapon before pushing it away. She raises her eyebrow at his weak strike as he does it again twice more before huffing as he gives her a real look expressing his displeasure at how she's still laying. He was underestimating her again.

Time to fix that.

"Oh, silly!" Marianne sighs playfully before smirking deviously and snapping her fingers.

* * *

Bog blinks as the music sounding in the speakers change to a more upbeat tune but he is in no way prepared as Marianne starts singing.

**_"Sugar Pie Honey Bunch! You know that I love you! I can't help myself! I love you and nobody else!"_ **

"What?" Bog mutters in confusion before ducking to avoid Marianne's foot as she performs a backward roll out of the chair to land beside it.

Any more thought is tossed aside as she immediately goes on the offense and he's forced to block a succession of quick strikes aimed at his chest. Trying to counterattack gives little result as she quickly shows off an agileness she hadn't yet displayed and either blocks the attack easily or avoids it altogether.

He is in trouble. Big trouble. And from her satisfied smirk, she knows it. The audience knew it too from the sounds of their laughter.

Taking to the air is his only hope to put distance between them but she's quick to follow.

**_"In and out my life, you come and you go! Leaving just your picture behind and I've kissed it a thousand times!"_ **

"This song is annoying!" he complains loudly as they lock weapons.

The cheekiness swimming in her amber eyes doesn't help him one bit and neither is this song. Only the reminder that they're not alone by all the laughter and cheering from the audience keeps him from acting on his impulse to kiss her.

"Stop that!" he growls before snapping his finger, causing the music to change.

**_"I never looked for trouble but I never ran! I don't take no orders from no kind of man! I'm only made out of flesh, blood, and bone but if ye're gonna start a rumble don't ye try it all alone!"_ **

It only takes him a second after starting to realize his folly and he's only grateful his back is turned to the audience as his eyes widen in horror. His mother is going to kill him! How could he actually skip the second verse? And worse, he didn't even notice it until now!

He quickly shakes off the dread setting in to keep from making any more mistakes. As it is, he's going to be in a lot of trouble for just that one mistake, so he doesn't need to make it worse.

"Do I look like a man to you?" Marianne scoffs, gesturing dramatically to herself before charging at him.

The clanging of their weapons barely drowns out the laughter, which works in Bog's favor since he can't help his own chuckling lacing his singing.

* * *

_**"Cause I'm evil! My middle name is misery! Ha! Ha! Ha! Ha! Ha! Ha! Well, I'm evil! So don't ye mess around with me!"** _

Bog closes his wings and plummets to the ground to avoid her next attack, nearly causing her heart to jam in her throat. He flicks his wings several feet before hitting the ground and somersaults with a half twist to land crouched on the seat of the bone throne.

That jerk! He had no right to laugh and smirk and look so sinfully tempting after scaring her like that!

She scowls when he points at her with his staff with one arm as he moves his legs from beneath him to drop carelessly on the seat with the other arm draped over his knee. Imp heeds her unspoken request as she snaps her fingers and the tune changes before the chorus starts.

**_"When you snap your fingers or wink your eye, I come running to you! I'm tied to you, baby! And there's nothing that I can do!"_ **

Diving through the air to land in front of the smug man, she slams her blade against his staff hard enough to send a shower of sparks as it slides off the other weapon because of a bad angle. The light show sets off sounds of delight from their watchers and Bog blocks her next attack in a way to cause another shower of sparks. When he blocks another of her attacks without leaving his seated position, this one purposely aimed a little close to the belt, Marianne can't help the smirk as she realizes that he had trapped himself.

A premature assumption that forces her to dodge fast to avoid the other half of his weapon when he lets the other half slide with her blow. She has to use her wings to dodge the next blow he swings at her when he stands up. Trying to approach him from the side is no use as he uses the longer reach of his quarterstaff to force her to keep at a distance as he spins it from hand to hand in both the front of his chest and behind his back.

She's ready for his next attack but nearly falters when Bog sings the next verse.

_**"Sugar Pie Honey Bunch! I'm weaker than a boy should be! Ooh, I can't help myself! I'm a fool in love ye see!"** _

'That's cheating!' Marianne whines internally. She can feel herself wanting to turn into a puddle at the sound of his voice, each word caressed by his accent. Ignoring the squeals from the stands, Marianne catches sight of Thang out of the corner of her eye when she dodges another strike. 'Two could play at this game.'

Instead of dodging the next strike, she meets it head-on and uses an extra burst of strength from a flap of her wings to push Bog back before flying a quick retreat in the direction of the shorter fae-touched man. She easily grabs Bog's pork pie hat from his grip before veering up sharply to land on the high-wire. A quick snap of her fingers keeps Bog from starting the next verse of that cursed song.

_**"I was born standing up and talking back! My daddy was a green-eyed mountain jack!** **"** _

Placing Bog's hat onto her own head and pulling it low on one side of her forehead, Marianne saunters across the tightrope with a smirk to the stunned ringmaster as she sings the skipped verse. She had to hand it to Imp for how well he was blending the music.

_**"Cause I'm evil! My middle name is misery! Well, I'm evil! So don't you mess around with me!"** _

Bog's surprise doesn't last long and he flies up to continue their duel, though not landing on the wire as she did. It's harder to keep her balance as she blocks his attacks and parries her own but her wings easily help despite how aching they're becoming. The next attack from Bog causes them to lock weapons again.

"I signaled Imp. Next verse is last," he whispers as their faces draw near to each other.

She pinches her eyes slightly with a quick subtle nod before pushing him farther away and jumping off the tightrope toward him.

_**"I'm evil, evil, evil as can be! I'm evil, evil, evil, as can be! So don't mess around, don't mess around, mess around with me!"** _

Their weapons collide in short but furious successions as they sing the song together, letting the beat carry them around a support pillar, through the trapeze wires, and back down to land in the center ring.

Moving to exchange blows once more, both eyes widen as they both lose their grip on their weapons and cause them to drop to the ground. Instead of picking her sword back up, Marianne stares defiantly up at Bog with her hands on her hips. A move that Bog copies but instead crosses his arms as the music starts dying down.

She really had to hand it to Imp. That sounded just like it was supposed to end that way. A quick look to the lighting and sound booth forces her to bite her lip so as not to ruin her scowling image at the sight of Imp panting with his hand over his heart. From the twitch on Bog's face, he must have seen the same thing.

'We're so horrible to that poor man!' she snickers silently.

"Well, I guess it's a tie!" Griselda remarks to the cheering crowd.

Marianne yelps at Griselda's sudden appearance beside them and she feels no shame at her startled step back since Bog does the same thing. The motherly woman only smiles indulgingly at them both before picking up their weapons and handing them over.

"My mother!" Bog announces with fond exasperation, grabbing his hat off of Marianne's head and putting it back on his with a tap as she sheaths her sword.

"Charmed!" Griselda purrs, clasping her hands to the side of her face.

* * *

Opening his mouth to start the send-off, Bog stops short as his mother pulls Marianne down to whisper something in her ear. The brunette only shakes her head in a negative to whatever was said before blushing at his curious look and turning away to tuck a stray piece of hair behind her ear. Oh, no! What did his mother just do?!

"Now, for those who've been here before, you know we usually send you off with a big farewell on our last night here but we're going to try something a little different this time," Griselda announces. "You don't mind that, now do you?"

The crowds resounding answer doesn't put him at ease in the slightest and he can feel himself panicking at the position his own mother is putting him in. There was nothing else planned!

"Oh, you're such a good crowd!" Griselda praises. "Without further ado..."

A double clap from his mother causes the lights to instantly soften to a pale blue and Bog gapes at the traitor in the lighting and sound booth as soft music starts playing through the speakers. Imp only grins back sharply at the threat of pain promised in Bog's eyes.

He turns his attention back to the problem at hand when he catches sight of Marianne's wings opening and taking flight. Only his mother's unnoticeable grip on his pant leg keeps him physically grounded but it has no effect on his heart as the colored light causes Marianne's amethyst and black butterfly-like wings to glow as she twirls in the air. He doesn't care how idiotic he must look with an open-mouthed besotted smile adorning his face as he watches her loop-de-loop around the tightrope before flying back to just feet above the ground near the circus kids' private stand.

**_"You're waking meadows in my mind! Making waves across my tide! Oh, no! Oh, no! I got a strange magic!"_ **

It's obvious that his mother had been busy informing everyone else about this plan of hers when the performing teenagers leave their seats as Marianne passes the area with a slow 'walking' kind of pace. The winged teens twirl around her momentarily before flying up to sit on the trapeze and tightrope platforms while the earthbound teens do their own assortment of acrobatics as she slowly circles them before they run to sit near the bone throne's platform where Stuff and Thang are already seated.

_**"Oh, what a strange magic! Oh, it's a strange magic! I've got a strange magic!"** _

Bog can't resist joining her in the song. Feeling his mother's poke, he notices her slight nod to the back entrance and takes to the air himself with his own twirling takeoff. Instead of joining Marianne as she flies in front of the public stands, he circles twice around the bone throne in a wide arc, giving a fond smile to the teenagers before heading toward the backstage curtains.

At least his mother had mercy on him and didn't change the send-off routine that much. 'Though, I think I might prefer this over just announcing it,' he admits silently, taking one last glance to Marianne before taking the next verse.

_**"Ye're sailing softly through the sun, of a land I've always known! Ye fly, so high! I get a strange magic!"** _

As with the performing teenagers, the performing adults start emerging from backstage as he hovers in front of the curtains. The earthbound adults head toward the bone throne's platform while the winged adults join him in the air as he flies toward the stands before they break away and join the winged teens on the ariel platforms.

**_"Oh, what a strange magic! Oh, it's a strange magic! I've got a strange magic!"_ **

Marianne rejoins him in the song as they fly closer to each other, eventually meeting up in front of the big top's main entrance and twirling around each other and gaining altitude with each pass. As they reach higher, Bog notices the strain Marianne is having on keeping aloft and reaches over to wrap his arm around her waist so she can momentarily rest her wings.

**_"Oh, I!" "Oh, I!" "Never gonna be the same again!" "Never gonna be the same again!"_ **

She returns the one-armed embrace as he flies them back to their previous position a few feet above the ground as he starts repeating after her.

**_"Now I've seen the way it's got to end!" "Got to end!"_ **

Bog takes a wide arc around the center ring before stopping in the middle to release Marianne from his hold.

**_"Sweet dreams!" "Sweet dreams!" "Sweet dreams!"_ **

Marianne opens her wings to fly on her own but keeps her eyes trained on Bog as she sings her part. Bog can't resist cupping her face with his free hand as he sings her part. Then they fly back from each other as their voices ring together.

**_"I got a strange magic! Oh, what a strange magic! Oh, it's a strange magic! I've got a strange magic!"_ **

Bog flies back to circle around those waiting at the bone throne as Marianne flies up toward those waiting on the trapeze and tightrope platforms. Landing in front of the ornate chair, Bog watches as the flying performers join Marianne in the air as she passes them and they circle around the nearest support pillar before heading toward him. He holds out his free hand and smiles as Marianne takes it and lands beside him instead of landing with the others in front of the bone throne's platform.

_**"Got a strange magic! It's magic! It's magic! It's magic!"** _

Turning to the enraptured audience, Bog keeps Marianne's hand in his as they sing to the crowd the last of the song together.


	12. Day Three - Night

Bog bites back the sigh wanting to emerge as he watches Marianne put on her duster as soon as they enter backstage. At least he had managed to keep her with him as they bid the visitors farewell but it's still disheartening to see her hide her wings after watching her enjoy their freedom. Checking inside the big top to gauge how long they have for a moment of peace, Bog motions for her to join him outside.

"Something wrong, Bog?" Marianne questions.

"Well, uh...no," he sighs, turning his attention to the cloudy night sky. "Nothing is wrong. Just, uh, just wondering if yer wings are okay. They looked like they were bothering ye."

"They're a bit sore," she admits. "I didn't really use them, remember, so they feel achy."

"But they're not truly painful, are they?" Bog asks.

"No need to worry. I did exercise them a little when I had the chance, I wouldn't have been able to get off the ground otherwise if I didn't, but not as much as they're being exercised now. It feels more like an overworked muscle than a strain or something like that," Marianne explains.

Nodding his understanding, Bog keeps his outward expression calm as he internally berates himself. Why'd he even bring it up? He told her last night that they, he, wouldn't push her past what she's comfortable and yet he keeps doing it!

The tentative fingers touching his free hand breaks him from his thoughts and he glances down sharply at the gloved-hand reaching toward him. He returns the gesture before Marianne withdrawals and lets his thumb run over the back of her black leather fingerless gloves. Come to think of it, he's never seen her without her gloves on either. 'Except once,' he corrects, letting his mind wander back to this morning.

"It's fine," Marianne reassures. "I know you're not trying to be pushy, so you don't need to beat yourself up for it."

His mind draws a blank for a moment. Oh, right, her wings.

"Ye know how ye told me that I should correct ye when ye're overstepping yer boundaries? The same applies to me," Bog murmurs. "Tell me when I'm overstepping my boundaries. Tell me to stop when I ask too much of ye or if it's something that's none of my business. Just because ye're used to being disrespected because of what those in the Light Field Circus has done, doesn't mean ye should be. It shouldn't be fine when I push ye to do more than what ye're comfortable doing."

"You know how you asked why would you correct me when I'm doing fine? The same applies to you," she counters. "I'm not saying it's fine to be non-confrontational or overly-amiable. It really is fine. It's kinda like I said Friday night about not ever performing before not meaning that I've never wanted to perform before. If you ever do something that I'm not comfortable with, you'll know. You've shown me nothing but respect and I would hate not to return it."

Bog takes a quick look toward the big top's main exit and notices the dwindling amount of visitors. It won't be much longer before the kids are allowed to leave their place. He's almost positive that the new additions will monopolize the rest of Marianne's night, so he tugs her hand to follow him to keep them from being disturbed a little longer.

"If we try to hide from the oncoming storm, we'll never hear the end of the insinuations," Marianne chuckles.

"Not if you're just going to put your sword away and I'm merely accompanying you because I need to change out of my uniform and put my quarterstaff away," he mutters, keeping his head turn so she doesn't see his blush.

"There is that. Plus, it's only right to make sure Mariah didn't have any trouble with Denali," she mentions.

"Of course," Bog agrees.

"So, what else is bothering you?" Marianne asks.

"I noticed Kishan with the kids. Is everything alright on that end?" he questions.

"As can be expected," she sighs before groaning. "Damn it all! I was supposed to ask you if you were okay with Kishan staying the night! I can't believe I forgot!"

"It's fine. I don't have a problem with it," Bog reassures. "Although, there might be a problem with where he's going to sleep. Greg only bought enough extra cots for the nine kids."

"He can use the one Griselda let me use last night. Three days of ruined routines seemed to have put Denali in a bad mood and I don't think it'll be a good idea to put him with the other kids in the circus fleas' tent, so I'll stay with him in my trailer," Marianne comments.

"Yer trailer is not big enough," he protests. "I know I'm being forward but ye can just stay in my trailer like ye did this morning. Nothing improper, just sleep. I don't like the idea of ye not getting enough sleep and I want to make sure ye get it."

Despite his embarrassment at the proposal, Bog keeps firm. He couldn't help the worry that Marianne will probably stay awake for most of the night thanks to Plum's revelation of it being a regular occurrence and this presented an opportunity to ensure that he knew she'd get some sleep. Hopefully, the fact that she didn't pull her hand away from his meant that she wasn't offended

"I get plenty of sleep," she defends.

"Oh, yeah? Then how come after arguing that ye weren't tired, ye fell right back asleep this morning?" Bog counters.

He smirks at her huff before yelping as she pokes his back in retaliation. At least she didn't argue.

* * *

Snickering at the muttered insults drifting through the air, Marianne dutifully rubs Denali's back as he gnaws on a teething ring while attempting to pretend she didn't hear Bog's argument with himself as he changes his clothes in the bedroom. It's hilarious how he could insist that she needed her sleep enough to offer his bed with himself still in it but then turn around and berate himself for being too forward.

Any other guy and she probably would have berated him herself. Except Bog is different. He really did have good intentions, even if the method seems unconventional. Maybe she is being biased.

Though, really, who in their right mind would turn down such a seductive offer? The possibility of an entire night of peaceful sleep? Not even a crazy person, that's who. An attractive and charming bed-partner isn't a bad bonus.

"Doubtful I'll be able to get a full night's sleep anyway," she mourns softly, adjusting her hold on the squirming child.

"Ye say something?" Bog questions.

"Nothing that matters," Marianne assures. "Anyway, since I've been answering so many questions, I think it's fair that you do the same."

"I guess that's fair," he laughs.

"What's with your accent?" Marianne asks.

She holds her breath to silence her own laughter as his abruptly ceases and his cheeks turn red. That wasn't exactly what she had planned to ask but she chickened out at the last second since it won't be too much longer before the kids realize where they went and the conversation she wanted would probably take a while. Besides, she had briefly wondered about the Scottish accent as not one other worker she had met had one, so it was still a fair question.

"His grandmother was Scottish and boy, did that woman know how to talk!" Alan quips, opening the trailer door. "He can actually speak without the accent but why bother when all the girls fawn over him so. Right, Bog?"

"Ye're such a pest," Bog growls, pushing the laughing teenager out of the way as he moves to leave.

"What are little brothers for?" Alan snickers before noticing Marianne's look of confusion. "I went from circus monkey to permanent circus flea when I was three, so we're the closest thing to actual brothers."

Marianne nods her understanding as she follows both men toward the circus flea tent. She knew all about the family-like feelings between circus kids. Unfortunately, most of her 'siblings' signed their names on that cursed piece of paper and she can't stop the heavy sigh as her mind wanders back to what she knows is going to happen tomorrow.

Bog's soft question draws her away from her darkening mood and she stops rubbing her amethyst dragonfly to wave off his concern with a half-smile. It wasn't something she wanted to discuss at the moment. Not with the laughing and smiling kids cheering her name as they catch sight of her. Not as she's swarmed with questions and compliments and enthusiastic praises only children could give. Not as she sees Kishan sitting on a cot, rubbing his arm with the most ashamed look she's ever seen.

Yeah, she doubts she'll be getting any sleep tonight.

* * *

Bog casts a worried look to Marianne as she ends her telling of how a prince became an outlaw in order to learn how to be a king. Despite how happy she seems outwardly at the moment, he knew most of it was a mask to keep the kids from worrying.

He'd be lying if he said he didn't know what was bothering her. That was obvious when she clutched her pendant as she glanced at the Coup D'etat copy when she walked into her trailer before putting her sword away. He had chosen not to bring it up when she followed him to his trailer to relieve Mariah of her babysitting but after watching her handle the Light Field Circus kids' questions surrounding her wings before and during bathtime, maybe he should have. It would have allowed her to at least vent a little before she had to deal with more clearly painful subjects.

"No, no, that's enough. Time for bed, ye greedy little things," Bog calls to the kids' pleading for another story from their newest favorite storyteller.

He rolls his eyes at the kids' dramatics as he walks over to pick up Brutus from Marianne's full lap to take him to bed. Which forces him to choke down laughter at the little light fae-touched girl's stuck-out tongue to the little boy as she hugs Marianne tighter in obvious smugness. So, he hadn't imagined the little rivalry going on between the two. 'This is going to be interesting,' he muses as Brutus returns the rude gesture.

"Why do we have to go to bed early? We hadn't misbehaved today," Joshua grumbles.

"You want to rephrase that last part?" Griselda questions with her eyebrow raised as she keeps rocking Denali. "Or do I need to remind you about that little fight you had after lunch?"

The non-working circus monkeys look to their grandmother-figure in horror before trying to usher their waiting parents out the circus flea tent. But the damage is already done and the kids cringe as the story is retold at the bequest of several parents, along with the names of the children involved. Bog gives his own cringe at the obvious lectures about to take place as the circus monkeys are escorted out of the circus fleas' tent by disappointed parents.

"Nisha!" Kishan scolds.

"Don't blame me!" Nisha huffs.

"We...I, I shouldn't have done what I did but that doesn't give you an excuse to do what you did," Kishan murmurs. "If it wasn't for Mr Kingly allowing you to come here, you would have been sent farther away and we probably wouldn't have seen each other for a long time."

"About that, Kishan," Marianne starts as she finishes tucking Libby under her blankets. "I had planned on telling you before the big top opened but I had more work that had to be taken care of first and then it was too late."

"Miss Vander?" Kishan guesses.

"Yeah. I'm gonna guess that you already know what's going to happen tomorrow," Marianne comments, getting a solemn nod. "The other circus fleas will be sent home and Miss Vander is making sure that you, Sunny, Masha, and Brie are sent to foster care back in our home area. She won't be able to keep any of you together, though. Once the Dark Forest Circus is done touring, you will be able to come back home if that's what you still want."

"What about Nisha?" Kishan asks.

"What about me? I'm staying with you, Kishan," Nisha remarks.

"Didn't you just hear Marianne? If the social worker can't keep even one of us big kids together then she's not going to be able to keep you and me together," Kishan argues.

"Wait, you mean we're being split up? What about the rest of us?" Horace questions worriedly.

As the other Light Field Circus kids echo in with their own worries, Bog motions for the older Dark Forest Circus teenagers to help put the younger kids to bed since his mother has her hands full and moves to the other side of the tent to join Marianne. He's not about to let Marianne explain this on her own. Worst-case scenario is that the kids put more blame on her for the situation that their adults put them in and he'd prefer to nip that in the bud.

They had decided not to mention the options until tomorrow morning when the Coup D'etat deadline was over but he understood Marianne's reasoning. With the arrival of Kishan, they had to change some of their plans.

"The rest of ye will stay here with the Dark Forest Circus for now. It's what me and Miss Marianne were talking about with the workers that brought ye here this morning," Bog explains. "Ye'll travel with us until the end of the tour when ye'll join the others back home."

"Why can't we go home now?" ten-year-old Candice asks.

"You, Gordan, and Wesley can go home if you want. Your parents, Gordan's grandparents, and your uncle, Wesley, were informed of the situation this morning and had all agreed about you all staying here but if you want to, you can go home," Marianne answers.

"No, I meant back to the circus home," Candice corrects.

"I'm afraid that's not an option," Marianne murmurs.

"I'm staying with Mama!" Libby states.

Bog breathes a sigh of relief as the other kids express their own agreement. He had begun to worry whether they would have problems after that argument earlier. But it seemed that his first impression of the children was correct, they absolutely loved Marianne.

"You're staying with Marianne too," Kishan orders the silent Nisha.

"But, Kishan...," Nisha starts.

"No buts!" Kishan growls. "If we had just stayed with Marianne in the first place, none of this would have happened."

"But Marianne left us," Nisha grumbles.

Covering his eyes with a hand, Bog groans as he can practically feel the argument beginning to brew from his circus fleas. This kid is stubborn to a fault! The sound of silence greets him instead and he uncovers his eyes to watch as Marianne sits beside Nisha on the cot.

"Do you know why I wasn't at the Light Field Circus Friday morning? Because I was here talking to Mr Kingly," Marianne explains. "I wasn't leaving the Light Field Circus but I was talking to him about maybe combining the two circuses, making it one big circus instead of two. I only joined the Dark Forest Circus because I thought that if those in the Light Field Circus had signed the Coup D'etat then that meant that they already had everything ready to complete it, which meant that I no longer had a place in the Light Field Circus. I hadn't even known about the complications of the Coup D'etat until late yesterday afternoon."

"But you left us," Nisha mutters, turning her head away.

"Not on purpose. And I know that doesn't make you feel any better. It didn't make me feel any better either," Marianne admits.

"Why didn't you come back to us yesterday when your Dad and Sunny came here? Why'd you let everyone believe that you were gone?" Nisha questions.

"Because I wasn't here when they came here. I was stuck in a traffic jam caused by runaway cattle. Oh, don't believe me? Well, I can prove it," Marianne remarks at the giggling, taking out her cell phone to show the picture. "See, that's me and a bull enjoying breakfast. I was doing an errand and got stuck with him and his brothers for a little over two hours."

Noticing the young girl's struggle to accept the explanation, Bog moves to kneel in front of Nisha as he realizes that her anger is just to cover the hurt by her supposed abandonment. The tears swimming in the brown eyes staring back at him confirms that.

"Marianne didn't forget ye," Bog murmurs. "She wanted to call to make sure ye all were being taken care of alright but when she went to do so Friday afternoon when she was able to, she realized that there wasn't really anyone she could have called."

"Good thing you didn't call, Marianne," Kishan mutters, leaning back to lay on his cot. "It was around noon that Roland realized that your dad didn't keep the circus files in his trailer and...well, let's just say it wasn't pretty. We barely got everything ready in time for the opening."

"And that's the guy you wanted to be the circus owner?" Alan scoffs.

"He was a pretty cool guy before," Kishan defends weakly.

"But Miss Marianne is awesome and it took us less than an hour to know that," fifteen-year-old Riley comments, echoed by the other Dark Forest Circus circus fleas.

"That's enough arguing. We got plenty to do tomorrow, so go to sleep," Bog orders before turning his attention back to Nisha. "I know that ye're old enough to understand what's happening in the Light Field Circus and I know that ye know that they haven't treated Marianne right. Would ye really want her to return to be treated the way she's been?"

"No," Nisha sighs, moving to lean against Marianne. "You could have at least taken us with you."

"And how would I have accomplished that?" Marianne asks playfully, poking the younger teen. "Mind you, that could be classified as kidnapping and it's illegal. I wouldn't be much good in jail, now would I?"

"I suppose not," Nisha quips with a cheeky smile.

* * *

The sight of Bog's shirt in her closet causes Marianne to blush. She had forgotten to return the borrowed item this morning when she changed her clothes. Grabbing the dark green fabric, she can't resist hugging the soft material to her.

'Would it be so wrong to wear it again? Bog is probably going argue about my nightgown anyway, so I'll just be saving us both some time,' she muses. And she had to admit that despite how comfortable she was in her nightgown compared to when she was younger, her wings were getting restless in their confinement now that she's been using them, especially since last night. Maybe it is time for a change.

"It's not like I haven't thought of it before," she mutters, rubbing the amethyst dragonfly pendant. "Would it be so bad? Three days and nothing bad has happened. It doesn't bother anyone here and the kids sure didn't mind how unusual my fae-touch is."

In fact, the kids had been more upset at the knowledge that she had to hide her fae-touch because of the others in the Light Field Circus. It was made worse when Kishan mentioned that some of the adults had signed the Coup D'etat because they thought that she wasn't fae-touched and probably wouldn't have signed it had they known that she was. He had stopped the brewing argument with a remark that it shouldn't have even mattered before apologizing for his own involvement.

"Marianne, are ye okay?" Bog questions through the door. "Ye've been gone for a while."

"Yeah! Sorry, got lost in my head," Marianne chuckles, quickly pulling the shirt over her bare form and slipping her boots back on.

"That's a dangerous place to get lost," he teases.

"No kidding," she mutters.

"What's wrong? Ye can talk to me," Bog comments.

"Nothing and everything is wrong," Marianne replies, opening the trailer door to exit.

She doesn't miss the widening of his eyes as she walks out, nor the blush spreading across his face. It was charming.

"Figured you wouldn't mind me borrowing your shirt again until I get around to modifying my clothes," she explains.

"Modifying? Ye mean ye're going to start letting yer wings show?" he asks hopefully.

"I've thought about it before, last year, but…" Marianne trails off with a shrug, her wings copying the motion. "I know Kishan said that some workers signed the Coup D'etat because of my lack of noticeable fae-touch but it's not my fae-touch that they have a problem with, it's me. Any acceptance they would have given me had I showed my wings would have been false and I realized that really quickly after I canceled the wedding. Here, I am accepted and I don't want to keep hiding."

"The kids accept ye, so maybe like Kishan, ye might have a few more from the Light Field Circus who do accept ye but have been listening to the wrong people," Bog murmurs.

Marianne gives a hum of partial agreement. It wasn't that she didn't hope it to be possible but…after what they did, she honestly didn't know if she could forgive them as easily as before. Everything she put up with before is nothing compared to this.

It was hard to shake off her feelings of being wrong around the others of the Light Field Circus but the more she thought over Bog's words, she knew he was right. All that she did, she did it to help and she was glad to do it but she shouldn't have had to do it alone. She may have kept certain things a secret but if knowing those things would change their opinions and attitudes then it was probably for the best that those things were kept secret.

A sharp breeze causes a shiver to run through her and she wraps her arms around herself to rub her gloved-hands up and down her arms. Bog quickly ushers her into his trailer as the wind increases and turns the thermometer up a little as rain starts pattering on the roof.

"Well, at least it waited until after we finished our last performance for this city," he mutters, shutting the skylight. "Dad always said this was a good luck rain. Never could understand why he thought so since it always meant we'd be working in mud to pack everything up."

"It could have been worse. It could have been raining for the last three days," Marianne points out. "And the local weather report only mentioned it to be a mild shower, so that's good too."

"It's still mud in the morning," Bog groans. "Surely, ye know how hard it is to get kids to behave during packing day with good weather. Every last one of them is going to be covered in mud before we even get the equipment packed!"

"Speaking from experience? I could always ask your mother. She already told me that she had to put a leash on your ankle when your fae-touch came in," she teases, giggling as his face turns red.

"I may have been a big influence on why Mom decided one kid was plenty," he admits sheepishly. "What about ye? Were ye a terror to yer parents?"

"The worst," Marianne smirks. "I nearly gave my grandpa a heart attack when I was seven, climbed right up to the high-wire after a show had ended and started walking on it without the net underneath. Dad flew up immediately after he saw what Grandpa was yelling about and brought me down."

"The illustrious start of yer incredible high-wire act. Ye know, Mom wants me to convince ye to add that to the show," Bog mentions.

"She apparently got tired of waiting for you to suggest it and mentioned it to me herself," she chuckles before explaining at his curious look. "It was after you opened the big top. We were talking about a few things before ending with everyone voicing their own curiosity about what's going to happen once the Coup D'etat deadline is up tomorrow. I told them that we'll just have to wait until tomorrow and deal with it as it happens. There's nothing anyone can do now."

Shaking her head in a physical gesture to cast away her thoughts, Marianne reaches down to pull off her boots and sets them with Bog's boots by the door, moving first to check on the sleeping Denali in the bedroom before heading to the freshly cluttered desk. She notices as Bog sits down on the nearby recliner chair but doesn't acknowledge it except to smirk at his relieved sigh. It's a sound she's very familiar with. 'Must be a ringmaster thing,' she muses.

"Did ye give Mom yer answer about the high-wire act?" Bog questions.

"Told her it'd probably be best to wait until next touring season to even think about it," Marianne answers, sorting through the new papers.

"Good answer," he hums. "There is one thing I do want ye to think about now, though. I meant what I said Saturday afternoon about ye getting a new job title."

"I don't...," she starts.

"I just want ye to think about it," Bog interrupts. "I had planned on making it a serious offer right now but after thinking about it, it'd probably be best to wait until the end of the year before making a decision."

"To see how I do, you mean," Marianne remarks.

"No. I already know that I could make ye co-owner of the Dark Forest Circus right now and have zero regrets because of how magnificent ye'll handle everything," he admits, grinning at her blush. "But. I don't want ye to have any regrets. There's no pressure. If ye decide that ye don't want all the responsibility and hassle of being co-owner, then that's okay. Ye can say no whenever ye want and no one will look down on ye. If ye decide that being my assistant-slash-secretary is too much a hassle, that's okay too."

"You'd drown in paperwork," she comments dully, waving the sales sheets. "How ever did you manage to survive this long?"

"Lots of good luck," Bog quips, kissing the honey amber butterfly before continuing. "The point is, I want ye to decide for yerself what ye want to do. No obligations."

No obligations? She almost couldn't grasp it. What would she do if she had no reason to do something except that she wanted to do it? Would she have still done what she did if there was another option? Hard to say but it doesn't really matter since there were no other options...or at least no options that helped everyone. Everything she did may have been because it had to be done but it wasn't like she didn't want to do it.

'What do I want?' she questions silently. It doesn't come as a surprise to her when her eyes shift over to the lounging man beside her. She couldn't help remembering the days her father used to look the same in his recliner back home while her mother worked on some project or another nearby. Sort of like what she and Bog were doing right now.

"Griselda seems to think that I'll wind up the co-owner a different way, especially after that dreadful song I foolishly picked for our routine," Marianne hints.

Marianne snickers as she watches Bog let his head fall back against the chair cushion with a muttered "meddling woman" before his hand rubs down his face. When she had told Imp about which song she wanted to use to throw Bog off, he had written for her to be prepared for the consequences before laughing and getting the music ready. She hadn't realized what those consequences were until Griselda had pulled her down to inform her of the changes for the send-off routine before mentioning that she'll keep the kids confined in the big top for as long as possible so that she and Bog could spend some alone time together. The helpful woman had even suggested that she use the time to talk to Bog upfront about pursuing a relationship because for all his bluster he was a shy man and it might take him ages before saying something even though she knew without a doubt that he liked Marianne too. By the time Griselda asked in concern about whether her wings were too tired to do the send-off act, she couldn't look at Bog for fear of doing something silly.

Then of course Alan proved her right about there not being enough time to talk about it with his sudden arrival. She had felt no pity for him when Griselda smacked his arm after realizing that she and Bog hadn't talked about that particular subject yet.

"That's something we need to talk about," Bog sighs. "I like ye, Marianne. A lot. Not as in liking ye as a person, though that isn't to say that I don't like ye as a person, I mean as in I 'like' like ye and...this is hard enough, ye don't need to laugh."

"Sorry!" Marianne giggles, trying to stop. "I'm not laughing at you, I swear! As bad as it sounds, this kind of made me think of Roland's 'love' confession and how phony it now sounds compared to your attempt at just telling me that you like me in a way that might lead to love. For the record, I 'like' like you, too, and I wouldn't mind seeing where it leads us."

"And I don't think that is a good idea right now," he murmurs.

"Huh? Why?" she asks.

"Ye just turned eighteen and ye've just gotten out of a situation that hurt ye badly. I'm not saying that ye're not able to think clearly, I...," Bog starts before trailing off with a sigh and waving a hand. "Let me finish."

* * *

Bog smiles his gratitude as Marianne closes her mouth and gestures for him to continue. Kissing the honey amber butterfly for good luck, he prays he can say this right without messing up. The last thing he wants is to make Marianne think he didn't want to be in a relationship with her.

"Maybe this might help ye to understand what I'm trying to say. A little over two years ago, I almost got married to Yemma," he mentions. "She had gotten her fae-touch shortly before her nineteenth birthday and it created problems in her old life. We were both hurting at the time, me from Dad's death and she from the pain of discovering how shallow the people she used to know were, so we had been drawn to each other. Pretty quickly we both fancied ourselves in love with each other. Pl...the fortune teller had warned us that we were headed to heartbreak but I hadn't listened to a word she said."

"So, what happened?" she questions.

"Greg is what happened," Bog quips with a rueful smile. "Mom hadn't really known what was going on at the time since she had stayed home when the circus left to tour, with it being just two weeks after Dad's death and all, so she only knew what I told her during phone conversations throughout the months we were gone. She was happy and all for the wedding to take place when we got home but on the day of the wedding, Greg arrived. He and Yemma had been childhood sweethearts but when her fae-touch came in...well, he admitted that he acted terribly and apologized repeatedly. He told Yemma that he had thought that the fae-touch would change her and that she wouldn't be the same person as the one he grew up with but once the shock of it all had faded, he realized that he was an idiot and headed back to her house to apologize then and there and beg for forgiveness. Unfortunately, she had already left by that time and no one knew or cared where she went to. Greg had searched for her for months before finally being directed to the Dark Forest Circus' home grounds."

"I thought he looked familiar!" Marianne mutters. "I'm surprised he didn't punch Roland like he promised to back then. Though, that's probably because he didn't want to start any trouble."

"Wait. What?" he asks.

"Oh, it's nothing. Continue with your story," she comments.

"Yemma realized that she was still in love with Greg, we called off the wedding with a dozen apologies, and I exiled the fortune teller tent to the edges of the circus in a fit of temper since Pl...the fortune teller had the nerve to say 'I told ye so' when she was the one who told me just weeks before Yemma arrived that my soul match was someone that was going to join the Dark Forest Circus very soon," Bog hastily continues. "Now, what about Greg and Roland?"

"I hadn't known his name back then but he had arrived at the Light Field Circus' circus grounds in the last city of our tour asking about a newly fae-touched woman and had the unfortunate luck of talking to Roland first. Dad and I managed to break up the fight before it really started and told him that we hadn't had any new workers other than kids and that he should check the Dark Forest Circus. But before he left, Greg told Roland that if he ever saw his 'ugly mug' again, his fist will make an improvement," Marianne answers.

Bog can't help chuckling at that. No wonder he had liked the man despite being upset about the failed wedding. Of course, it helped that Greg was completely repentant about his actions and had told Yemma that he wouldn't stand in the way of her new life and that he only hoped that she could forgive him so that all their years of friendship wouldn't end because of his stupidity.

Thinking back on it, Bog can honestly say that he is glad that day happened like that. No matter how painful it felt then, it would have been far more painful later when he and Yemma realized that they weren't in love with each other like they thought.

"Anyway, I think I get what you're saying," Marianne remarks, breaking him out of his thoughts. "As with the co-owner offer, you want us both to know that we want this for certain before we try dating. Right?"

"Something like that," he confirms. "I really do like ye, Marianne, and if in the end friendship is all that I can have with ye, I'll be happy for it. But that's not to say that I want to stay just friends if there's an opportunity for more."

"You do realize that I come with seven kids thirteen and under, right?" Marianne comments.

"Add that to the six kids thirteen and under that I have full-custody of and we got a baker's dozen. What could be more luckier?" Bog winks before joining her soft laughter.


	13. Day Four - Morning part 1

This first thing Bog realizes as he starts to awaken is that the comfortable pressure against his side and chest that he fell asleep with is gone. A seeking hand reveals his solitude in the bed and he cracks an eye open to tentatively search the space. The lack of Marianne is obvious. Made more so as he finally recognizes the other sound he's hearing.

Peering into the crib, Bog chuckles at the scowling baby kicking at the bars. Someone wasn't happy this morning.

"Alright, alright," he murmurs, picking up the child. "Let's see to getting us both some nectar from heaven."

Passing the bathroom reveals its unoccupied state and neither is anyone in the other half of the trailer. That's odd. He had hoped that Marianne would have been able to sleep the whole night but he figured that if she did wake, she'd probably be doing paperwork. Except the desk looks exactly like it was last night.

A sharp screech jolts him out of his thoughts and he grabs the teething ring Marianne had placed in the fridge to give Denali something to occupy himself with as Bog sets about to make his bottle. Satisfied at the offer, the baby happily gnaws on the toy and lets the desperate adult drink his coffee.

Despite how long it takes before Denali is fed and changed, Marianne is still nowhere in sight and Bog quickly dresses before exiting his trailer. He didn't want to start worrying needlessly but it was a bit hard not to. He moves to knock on her trailer door before pausing as the sound of running water reaches his ears.

Oh. That made sense.

His face burns red as his mind offers him a vivid image of what Marianne is probably doing, an image that was much more detailed than the one on Saturday, and he quickly walks away from the door.

"Something wrong, sweetheart?" Griselda questions as he approaches her outside the circus fleas' tent.

"No, no, why would something be wrong?" he counters, quickly handing Denali over to her. "I'm going to go check and see if the rain caused any damage. Marianne is...uh...she's uh...busy."

"Saw her naked, did you?" she chuckles.

"No!" Bog hisses. "I didn't...I mean...agh!"

Bog's long legs can't carry him away fast enough and he switches to flying to get out of range of his mother's soft laughter. What a lovely start to the day!

* * *

"Where's Mama?" Libby pouts as she stares at the bowl of porridge placed in front of her.

"She's busy working but I'll have Bog go fetch her for breakfast," Griselda comments, sending a worried look to Bog.

Nodding his agreement, Bog finishes his own bowl of porridge and places it in the freestanding utility sink before leaving the tent. He had kept his worries under control as the circus fleas woke up and were dressed but surely she would have joined them by now. Sure, Marianne had mentioned the call she received yesterday and he knew that they would probably need the files she kept in her trailer since they were the only files available but she should be done.

Maybe he should have disturbed her while she was taking a shower. Maybe he should have checked in on her after he returned from scouting the storm damage. Maybe...

Bog gasps as a hand grabs his wrist in a tight grip and keeps him from knocking on Marianne's trailer door. He turns startled blue eyes toward Plum and barely keeps from shivering at her serious look.

"Promise me, Gregory, that you will not get angry at Marianne no matter what," Plum orders quietly.

"What? Plum, what are ye talking about?" Bog questions.

"Just promise me," she growls, squeezing his wrist tighter until he winces under the pain. "Do not take out your anger on Marianne. She does not need it and you will only be helping those that have hurt her if you walk in there to lecture her. For everything you know, things are far much worse."

He can only swallow thickly at her cryptic reply before giving his promise. Rubbing his sore wrist once Plum releases it, Bog stares at the door in front of him with trepidation. He had a feeling that something was wrong earlier but had foolishly ignored it because of his embarrassment. Now he can only hope that it isn't too late as he reaches out to grasp the door handle instead.

"Marianne, I'm coming in," he announces before opening the door.

Plum's warning quickly rises in his mind and he forces his immediate anger down as he surveys the scene in front of him. Taking a deep calming breath and giving a quick kiss to his pendant for good luck, he resolutely walks in, closing the door behind him. Marianne doesn't look up at him from her position on the floor with her back to the filing cabinets, even as he walks closer to loom over her.

"Marianne, what are ye doing?" Bog asks slowly.

"Trying to find the appeal," Marianne mutters, taking a sip from the glass in her hand.

"Where did ye get the vodka?" he questions.

"Bottom cabinet," she answers dully.

Bog quickly opens the nearby cabinet she motioned to and nearly swears viciously at the bottles of vodka filling the entire space. Noticing her bringing the glass to her lips again, he reaches out and pulls it from her hand before grabbing the bottle next to her seated form. He had promised that he wouldn't get angry at Marianne but he isn't going to tolerate this.

Taking another deep breath to stomp down his frustration, he places both items on the table before moving to kneel in front of Marianne. The fact that she only has a towel wrapped around her and the reappearance of her scarred legs can't distract him as he places his hands on her bare shoulders to force her to pay attention to him. It's hard to tell if the glassy amber eyes staring back at him are from tears or are from the alcohol but it stabs a dagger in his heart at how vulnerable she looks.

"Marianne, what are ye doing and where did ye get all that vodka?" he asks once more.

"No one knows. No one but me and Aunt Aura," she mutters.

"Knows what?" Bog questions.

"I figured I'd try and see what was so great about it but it doesn't really work. It still hurts," Marianne whimpers.

Panic flushes out the remaining anger in his blood and Bog quickly scans Marianne's form for the sight of any injuries when she doesn't respond to his question of where she hurt. The sight of red on her uncovered palms nearly causes his heart to stop but grasping the delicate appendages in his own larger hands it's obvious the damage is old and healed. A quick look to her scarred legs confirms his suspicion at the familiar scarring.

He moves Marianne's hands to cup his face, causing her to turn her attention to him and he breathes a sigh of relief as lucidity seems to come back to her. He was afraid that she may have been drunk by how she had been acting but maybe she was merely lost in whatever horror she is feeling.

"Marianne, I can't help if ye don't tell me how I can help. Please, Marianne, let me help. What can I do?" he begs before turning his head to kiss the fire-damaged skin.

"What can you do?" she asks hollowly.

'Good question,' he admits silently. There wasn't anything he really could do. In a few more hours, the Coup D'etat deadline will be up and dozens of people that Marianne grew up with will all be out of a job and out of a home because of their own foolishness. There was no way to stop it.

"I don't know what I can do, except listen and maybe share yer pain to ease ye," he admits. "Just talk to me, Marianne. Don't keep the poison inside ye."

"Where should I start?" she questions.

"From the beginning might help," Bog suggests.

"The beginning? I guess that's where it all started, didn't it? You already know about Aunt Aura's vision and Grandpa's attempt at thwarting it. Years passed, Grandpa retired, Dad became the circus owner, Dawn got her fae-touch, and...people started whispering. They didn't think I heard but another part of my fae-touch is extremely good hearing, so I heard almost everything if I was actually paying attention," Marianne mentions. "It was fine. I understood why they were worried since even when I was younger I had a lot of knowledge of how bad it was for the fae-touched. Aunt Aura was a prime example of how bad a fae-touched could suffer even at the hands of their own family. I figured I would show them that even though I didn't look fae-touched to them, I could still run a good circus for the fae-touched. I was going to be the best circus owner there ever was, just like I always dreamed."

A knock causes them both to look to the door and Bog relaxes as his mother walks in carrying porridge and a glass of juice. From her lack of surprise as she walks in, he figures Plum must have explained what is going on.

"Come eat some breakfast. It'll help to make you feel a little better," Griselda murmurs, her own amber eyes glassy as she sets the items on the table. "Do you want me to go?"

Bog keeps his eyes mostly averted as he helps Marianne to her feet before cursing as he stands too straight and knocks his head against the ceiling. He can't feel that much upset since it does cause the distraught woman to giggle. A reminder that the Marianne he's come to know is still somewhere in the misery floating to the surface.

"You can stay. Thanks, Griselda," Marianne comments, greedily drinking the juice after sitting in one of the chairs before taking several bites of porridge. "God, that stuff tasted awful! I don't know how Dad can stand it."

"The vodka is yer father's?" Bog questions as he leans against the cabinet when his mother takes the other chair.

"He...how much do you know about the accident that killed my mother?" Marianne asks.

"Not much more details than was in the paper. A ten-vehicle pile-up that took hours to clear the wreckage from and caused the Light Field Circus to cancel the last three days of the touring year because of yer parents being involved," he answers.

"Mom and Dad were right behind the first crash with no way to avoid it and got buried beneath two other cars. They were near to the last to be rescued and by that time, Mom had already died of her injuries. Neither had the luxury of passing out, so they were both awake and aware until her last breath," Marianne continues, pausing to take a few more bites of porridge. "Dad wasn't rescued completely unscathed, though. You probably noticed when he was here that he never moved his wings. His back was injured a little but it was his wings that suffered the most injury with severe nerve damage. The doctors have suggested repeatedly for him to amputate his wings because of how much pain even moving them the slightest puts him in."

"Why doesn't he?" Griselda questions.

"He's the ringmaster," Marianne states as if obvious. "It wouldn't look good if the ringmaster of a fae-touched circus didn't look fae-touched, after all. If they could reject me because of my lack of noticeable fae-touch, how much worse would it be for Dad if he had his wings removed?"

"So he drinks," Bog mutters, nodding to the vodka bottle.

"He's not a bad man! He's not!" Marianne insists.

"We're not saying that he is, dearie," Griselda consoles. "Your father suffered tremendous trauma. First with your mother's death and then his own physical pain. It's understandable, even if it isn't an ideal thing. Didn't anyone help him deal with it?"

"Only me and Aunt Aura knows about his drinking. Not like that many bothered to know how much Dad was hurting anyway," Marianne mutters, moving her hands to stare at the scarred palms. "After the accident, Dad was in the hospital for a few days for observation. Mostly everyone headed home since you can't run the circus without the ringmaster. But me, Dawn, Aunt Aura, and a few others stayed at the circus grounds waiting. The mayor at the time was kind enough to let us stay without complaint. It had just felt wrong to take down the big top with Dad not being there, so it stayed up until he was released."

Bog watches as Marianne's eyes glaze over once more and he curses himself for making her relive her pain. Grabbing her hands, he places a kiss upon both palms before encasing them between his hands.

"We, the Dark Forest Circus, may have had already packed-up and headed home but we know about the Light Field Circus' big top fire. Ye don't have to talk about it if it's too painful," he murmurs.

"But the fire is what caused everything that happened afterward," Marianne comments distantly. "When Dad was released, Dawn and I stuck to him like glue, so afraid that we'd lose him too. He sat in the big top, just staring, lost somewhere we couldn't get to. We fell asleep as it got later and the others had already turned in for the night. I don't know how I woke up but I did and the fire was already blazing out of control. Everything was engulfed in flames and there was no escape. Dawn was still asleep beside me and Dad was unconscious nearby. Part of the tent's side collapsed, so I grabbed Dawn and ran for it, barely getting outside before the flames got too intense."

Flicking his eyes down to her exposed legs, Bog can barely hold back the tears at the truth of how she got the scars. Did he really want to know the rest? How much worse could it get?

"I got Dawn as far away from the burning tent as I thought would be safe before heading back. Dad was still inside and with those that arrived to fight the fire nearer to the front, I knew getting help would take too long," Marianne explains at Bog and Griselda's shocked horror. "There was no way I could get back in the way that I got out, so I threw off my nightgown and flew up to the hole created by the missing tent fabric. It wasn't really big enough thanks to the tent's rigging but I easily pushed a piece of metal aside to get back inside. Getting to Dad was the easy part but no matter how much I shook him, he wouldn't wake up. I thought he was dead already. But I couldn't leave him there, so I got a good hold on him and flew as hard as I could back to the hole I made. Searing pain in my wings caused me to notice the damage the fire had done and I had to choose to either let Dad go or let my wings burn. It's easy to see which choice I made."

"Oh, you poor dear," Griselda sniffs, forcing Bog to move to hug the younger woman.

Bog huffs in annoyance at his mother's pushiness but the emotion collapses under the weight of gut-churning nausea. Plum was right. What he knew wasn't anywhere near as bad as the things he didn't know. Then add the Light Field Circus worker's betrayal to this. How hadn't Marianne collapsed under it all?

The sight of the vodka bottle sitting on the table causes him to run his clawed hand through his hair as he realizes that she was close to collapsing under it. As Griselda moves to return to her seat, Bog notices Plum's horrified expression through the partially open door and jolts at the implication.

"No one knows about this part, do they?" he asks.

"Only Dad," Marianne admits. "He started waking shortly after I got him with Dawn, so by the time everyone noticed us, they assumed that he was the one that got us out of the fire. I couldn't correct them. Not after..."

"After what?" Bog prods at her sharp inhale.

"When he woke, Dad said...he wondered why I didn't let him die," Marianne mutters before defending as Bog's eyes widen. "It's not his fault! Dad would never have done that if it wasn't for that blasted medicine the hospital gave him!"

Wait. What?

Bog freezes in his attempt to soothe her as his mind registers the last part of Marianne's comment. As his mother said with the drinking, it was kind of understandable that the man had a death wish with it being so close to having lost his wife but that last part didn't sound right. His mother seemed to be thinking the same thing if her narrowed eyes were anything to go by.

"Marianne, it's alright. We're not going to judge your father," Griselda reassures. "What exactly did he do?"

* * *

Marianne grimaces at the question. She hadn't really meant to mention that part but somehow it came out. Somehow it all came out. None of her usual attempt at explaining the situation without actually telling what happened.

"Ye can tell us, Marianne. We're not judging yer father for whatever happened, I swear," Bog echoes.

She knew they wouldn't. That wasn't even a question in her mind. They hadn't judged her for anything in the past few days and didn't even blink an eye to walk in here to see her drinking one of her father's vodkas, just immediately tried to help.

'That wasn't one of my better ideas,' she admits with an inward groan, running her hand through her hair. The movement brings her mind back to her present situation. Namely, she had just finished showering when it finally crashed on her how bad today is going to get and her addled brain thought her dad's method of dealing with it might help and she hadn't bothered trying to get dressed before pouring a glass. Heat to rival that long-ago fire spreads across Marianne's face to spread farther downward and she looks down to hide the blush. 'Definitely not even one of my best worst ideas!'

"Only a few people know what happened next. Not Dawn or anyone still working at the Light Field Circus knows. After we were taken to the hospital to be treated, Dawn and Dad for smoke inhalation and me for the burns, Dad was...he was held for investigation. A few days later he was arraigned before Judge Taylor Wayver on charges of arson, attempted homicide, and child endangerment," Marianne murmurs, cringing at the gasps. "But it wasn't his fault, it was the medicine! He had a bad reaction to the pain medication the doctors gave him after the car accident and it was proven by the doctors checking him. Dad would never have done that!"

"It's alright, Marianne! Calm down," Bog coaxes, returning his hands to her shoulders. "We believe ye. It's alright."

"But it's not alright," Marianne mumbles. "I couldn't...I couldn't keep up my end of the bargain."

"What bargain?" Bog asks.

"Dad wouldn't take the insanity plea, even though it was medically proven that he had very little knowledge or control of his actions at the time of the fire, so Judge Wayver had no choice but to convict him guilty. He was put on probation instead of going to jail but he lost custody of me and Dawn and because of the terms of the probation, he had to forfeit ownership of the circus," Marianne continues. "Dad hasn't been the owner of the Light Field Circus in six years. I have."

The resulting silence is deafening and Marianne cautiously looks toward the mother-son pair for their reaction. She can't say for sure exactly what she is expecting but whatever it was, she's sure it isn't shock that turns into calm understanding and acceptance. They didn't even seem upset at discovering that their rival has been working at their circus for the past three days.

'I wish I could have met you,' she muses silently as she raises a hand to touch the amethyst dragonfly. If Bog and Griselda are so accepting, and have been despite what little they knew of her, she can only imagine what would have happened six years ago if this stupid silly little rivalry wasn't keeping their circuses apart.

"The Coup D'etat," Bog mutters, disrupting her thoughts. "That's why ye said it was doomed to fail from the start when ye saw the copy."

"That's why," Marianne confirms. "On Friday, I thought they knew and had signed the Coup D'etat against me. I mean, it sure sounded that way. Because if Dad was part of it then surely the others would have found out."

"But why don't they know that you're the real owner of the circus?" Griselda questions.

Marianne bites her lip before taking a few more spoonfuls of porridge to stall for time. Now that the slight fuzzy feeling is starting to fade a little, she isn't sure what to say. How do you explain something like this?

"She was trying to protect Donald," Plum answers. "It was always to protect him. She didn't want anyone to know, to look down on him and judge him, that he had tried to commit suicide and had planned on taking his daughters with him. So that meant that only the few of us who were still there when the fire took place, who also knew how to keep our mouths shut, knew about the charges against him and consequently, that he lost the circus because of it."

"Aunt Aura!" Marianne murmurs in surprise as Plum walks through the door. "I didn't know you were here! Why did...oh, of course! The fortune-teller who had to say 'I told you so'. I should have known that was you."

"Well, I did tell him so and he wouldn't listen to me!" Plum huffs. "He reminds me too much of your father. Stubborn, charming, stubborn, good-hearted, stubborn, caring, stubborn."

"Plum!" Bog growls.

"Did I mention stubborn?" Plum scoffs.

"You haven't changed one bit," Marianne giggles.

"Neither have you, dear heart," Plum murmurs sadly. "You left out a great deal. Like the part where Judge Wayver was going to have to close the circus down with there being no one to take control of it since Donald couldn't and you stormed into the courtroom from where you were listening to the proceedings at the door to argue against it. You told him that the circus had a clause that if for any reason the previous owner could no longer run the circus then the circus would automatically change to the next owner listed in the deed and since you had already been added to it, then because of his ruling that Donald was no longer allowed to run the circus, the Light Field Circus transferred to you. When he argued that you being eleven years old at the time was too young, you cited everything you knew about how to run the circus and then illustrated what his decision to shut the circus down would cost those working in the circus and that they couldn't wait until you were the 'proper' age. The only reason the Light Field Circus didn't close down years ago was because you had singlehandedly impressed the toughest judge around."

"It's closed down now and it's because of me," Marianne mutters, waving off Bog's attempt to argue. "I know it's not my fault that this happened but that doesn't mean that I'm not the cause of it. They signed the Coup D'etat because of me."

"They signed the Coup D'etat cause they're a bunch of bullies and idiots that need their heads knocked off," Griselda counters. "Even if they had a legitimate excuse to not want you as the owner of the Light Field Circus, that doesn't give them an excuse for everything they did. Don't take the credit for something they themselves caused."

"Don't bother arguing, dear heart," Plum comments as Marianne opens her mouth. "You know we're right. You'd even agree with us if it wasn't for that ingrained need to protect that's a part of you. But this is one of those times that you have to shut that part off. You've done all that you can to do, more than you should have done, and now you need to let it go. This is their problem and it's for them to deal with."

Clenching her eyes shut against the tears, Marianne pushes down the moan wanting to break forth and wraps her arms around herself. It's not easy hearing the words. She knows her aunt is right. She knew from the beginning that she'd be tempted to run to the rescue if she heard their pleading or worried voices and had even asked that no one tell where she was for that very reason.

But how is she supposed to stop being who she is? No matter what those in the Light Field Circus had done, they are still her family. How is she supposed to just step back and watch them be ruined?

"There's nothing ye can do," Bog murmurs, pulling her against him and wrapping his arms around her. "I know it hurts to see someone in trouble and not being able to do a damn thing to fix it but if ye keep punishing yerself, what good will it do? For ye or for them?"

"Stop talking sense. Can't you see I want to wallow in misery?" Marianne mutters playfully into his chest.

"Ye belong in the air, tough girl, not in the mud and I'm not gonna let ye stay down," he counters.

"As charming as this is," Plum starts, stopping to glare at Griselda when she smacks her for causing the pair to separate after remembering their audience. "Anyway, what Griselda didn't tell you when she came in is that Ethel Wayver is here. She showed up shortly after Bog came in here. If she's here then that means her husband is here as well and that means that your father violated his probation, didn't he?"

"I talked to Judge Wayver on Friday night when he called to wish me a happy birthday and I told him what I had known at the time. He had said that he would wait until today because I wanted Dad to have one last show," Marianne explains. "I hadn't known then how bad the situation really is but yesterday's call from Mayor Rin Tai was also to inform me that several charges have been filed against both Dad and Roland, Dad for violating his probation and Roland for...well, it's a very long list actually."

"How long could that list be in only three days?" Bog question slowly.

"Most charges were tallied up by the second day," Marianne comments, snickering as Bog covers his face with a hand. "For starters, a physical assault charge because he apparently punched someone who told him exactly what they thought of the new changes, disturbing the peace, operating without a city permit, child endangerment, several charges that sound like they made it specifically because he irritated the city officials, and the biggest one being that those of the Light Field Circus are technically in possession of stolen property because I basically own eighty percent of everything sitting on that lot and they don't exactly have my permission to use it thanks to the complications of the Coup D'etat. They're going to put most of the blame on Roland since he's their elected leader."

"What a mess! No wonder you were overwhelmed," Griselda sighs, moving to leave the trailer but pausing to look back to the younger woman. "I'll let it slide this time since you're still new here but next time, remember that you can talk to anyone of us."

"Mom, really!" Bog groans.

"I'll deal with you later, Gregory," Griselda warns. "Now, come on. Today is going to be a busy day regardless of what is happening and I'm sure Marianne would much prefer being dressed in something other than a towel to deal with it all."

The sound of choking makes her eyes focus on Bog and Marianne watches in fascination as his face starts turning beat red as he looks back at her. One blink, two blinks, three bli...a stream of curses erupt from the lanky man's mouth as he stands rigidly straight and slams his head on the ceiling. With his hand on his head, Bog stumbles toward the trailer door.

"Bog!" Marianne screams worriedly as he missteps and falls out of the trailer and onto the ground.

"He's his father's son alright," Griselda sighs, shaking her head as she walks out and closing the door behind her.

* * *

Placing the last file in the box, Marianne sighs as she closes the lid. Waiting is the terrible part. Waiting for the call. Waiting for the answer to a question she is afraid to have answered.

The sound of shrieks, laughter, and yelling distracts her and she walks to the open door to see the source. Bog was right in his prediction. Every last kid old enough to escape capture is covered in mud, including Kishan as he joins the older teens of the Dark Forest Cirus to try and contain the younger children. She doesn't have the heart to break up the fun. She knows she needs to since Kishan should get cleaned up to be ready to leave whenever the call comes but...

"You're too young to have the weight of the world resting on your shoulders," Plum mutters as Marianne sighs again.

"It's not the weight of the world," Marianne comments. "Just the Light Field Circus."

"Same thing," Plum remarks.

Marianne snickers at her aunt's nonchalance. Four years and she really is the exact same as she was before she left. She looked the same too, if not happier than before.

"Shouldn't you be packing?" Marianne asks, glancing at the woman playing cards on her table.

"It'll get done in due time. Right now, it's more important that you're not left alone," Plum answers.

"I only drank a little, maybe several sips, and I have no intention of doing that again," Marianne mutters.

"It's not about the alcohol, dear heart," Plum murmurs, turning to look at Marianne. "No matter how well you brush it off to take care of the things needing to get done, you're still hurting and we're not going to let you deal with it alone anymore. You'll start overthinking things all over again and we plan on making sure one of us is always around to help you set your thoughts straight. Besides, even if I didn't plan on staying right here, Bog ordered me to and he is the boss."

"I can't believe Griselda yelled at him for not checking on me. It's not his fault that I woke before he did," Marianne comments as she catches sight of Bog directing the other workers.

"She yelled at him because he had a feeling that something was wrong and didn't check on you or even have someone else to do so," Plum corrects. "Bog inherited his father's and grandmother's sixth sense for things like that but the boy doesn't follow his instinct as well as they did. They're not clairvoyants like me but very similar."

Marianne turns from the open door to fully face the sitting woman. Between getting dressed, finishing her breakfast, making an appearance to soothe the worried children, calling several people she probably should have called much earlier but hadn't thought to, as well as gathering every file concerning Light Field Circus property that she figured might be needed, she hadn't had much of a chance to really talk to her aunt. With Libby and Brutus reluctantly sharing the other chair to color the pictures she gave them, there were certain things they had to be very careful talking about but she can at least get some answers.

"Why didn't you check on me, Aunt Aura? Not just today but before, I mean. No one has heard from you in four years," Marianne murmurs.

"I had thought to contact you, multiple times, but...," Plum starts before sighing. "I have no business interfering in your life after how much a mess I've made of it."

"I never blamed you, or Grandpa," Marianne reassures. "You were both trying to protect me and I understand that. I've always understood that."

"We meant well but we still made a mess of things. That was obvious by how everyone reacted to you defending me," Plum remarks.

"You didn't have to leave, though. Things would have settled down. After all, they had forgotten all about the supposedly missing money after a few more weeks," Marianne comments.

"You and I both know that it would have only gotten worse had I stayed. Besides, your father and I never did get along, always arguing with each other, and I felt that leaving was the best course of action," Plum admits. "I wasn't much good there anyway. I couldn't even help with you and Dawn thanks to that terrible woman."

Wincing at the reminder of her aunt's own painful past, Marianne moves back toward the filing cabinets to look through the papers. What could be more worse than for a fae-touched-born to be born to someone who hated the fae-touched? The fae-touched teenager becoming pregnant and being forced to give up her child after her mother got her declared mentally unfit to ever take care of children. That spiteful hate from a grandmother she had never met had created lasting damage but at least Marianne could give some peace to her beloved aunt.

"Shortly after you left, this came in," Marianne mentions, handing a folder to Plum.

"Oh! This is...," Plum starts, looking sharply at the humming Libby before turning pleading eyes toward her niece. "Is she alright?"

"Perfectly fine the last time I heard," Marianne assures. "She's not like 'Her' either. She just has absolutely no plans or desire for being domestic. But she did want to give her child a chance for a good life with the hope that they'd have as great adoptive parents as she did. The born fae-touch came as a shock since there was no mention of a fae-touch in her adoption files and she never exhibited any fae-touch herself, so she had changed her plans and eventually contacted the Light Field Circus. I had discovered the connection while we were talking and Miss Vander had managed to confirm it after checking things out."

"But she's not interested, is she?" Plum questions.

"She's happy with her life as it is and she prefers for it to stay that way," Marianne answers delicately.

Plum's nod and contented smile makes Marianne sigh in relief as she moves to place the offered file back to where it belongs. She's glad she doesn't need to say more on the matter for her aunt to understand. It's not that she wanted to keep Libby from knowing about her mother but Kristin had asked that she at least not know until she is older and able to understand the reasons she relinquished her parental rights. Especially since that information now came with the knowledge that the person that mostly raised Libby from a baby is her birth mother's maternal cousin.

"I'm glad she's had such a good life. I always hoped and prayed that she would," Plum murmurs. "I just wish I could have given you the same."

"And you call me and Dad stubborn!" Marianne groans. "Okay, fine. Maybe I didn't have as great a life as you think I should have and maybe things could have been a little different had you and Grandpa not done what you did but it's alright. If I'm not allowed to blame myself for what the others have done, then you're not allowed to either. I mean it! It probably would have made no difference in the end, anyway. Who's to say that they wouldn't have rejected me because of my partial dark fae-touched appearance?"

"Who's to say that they wouldn't have accepted you?" Plum counters.

"You're impossible," Marianne mutters playfully with a shake of her head, smirking as her aunt preens.

"Thank you, dear heart! I try my best!" Plum giggles before getting serious again. "I don't want you to think that I completely forgot about you and Dawn. Discovering Ethel Wayver is Griselda's eldest sister was a fortuitous event and she informed me of everything she knew whenever she came to visit. I probably wouldn't have been able to keep my resolve of staying away until your eighteenth birthday had it not been for her. I still nearly didn't when she told me of your engagement to Roland. Roland, of all people!"

"Roland is a doo-doo head," Libby mutters, proving the children were listening.

Momentarily glancing away from her fuming aunt, Marianne snickers as she notices Brutus' beaming smile to the younger girl before giving her the crayon they were just fighting over. 'What was that saying? The enemy of my enemy is my friend or something like that,' she muses as Libby happily hands over the picture Brutus had wanted but she had grabbed before he did, which had resulted in him grabbing the crayon she wanted. As much as she should probably scold Libby, as well as find out exactly who taught her that insult, she can't help find it endearing how the pair were reconciling with each other over their mutual dislike of Roland.

"I mean, really, Marianne! What were you thinking? The man is old enough to be your father!" Plum continues, diverting her attention away from the cute exchange.

"Actually...," Marianne starts.

"Marianne," Bog interrupts, walking into the trailer. "We need to talk."

"Good news or bad news?" Marianne questions.

"Depends on yer point of view," he quips. "Kishan talked to me and asked if he could stay with us."

"That's great but the Coup D'etat. He's bound by his contract and can't join the Dark Forest Circus," she points out.

"I know but I got to thinking. He's a permanent circus flea. Worker or not, he's still under the guardianship of the Light Field Circus until he's of legal age. If the younger children can stay with the Dark Forest Circus while still under the guardianship of the Light Field Circus because of ye being here, why can't Kishan?" Bog asks.

Marianne blinks in stunned silence for a few seconds before rapidly scanning through the filing cabinets. It was a good point. A very good point. 'Where is that stupid piece of paper?! Ah-ha!'

Pulling out the needed files, she hands Bog one while she quickly reads through the other. Circus laws and by-laws are confusing enough and this mess certainly doesn't help. Surely there are loopholes though!

"Found it," Bog announces, opening the file wider to allow Marianne to look as well.

"It doesn't seem like there is any protocol concerning underage workers signing a Coup D'etat," Marianne mutters. "At least, nothing that seems different from an adult."

"There's probably never been a need to. Of all the Coup D'etat contracts that have been signed, how many do ye think were signed by underage workers? I doubt many," he answers himself.

"You might be able to treat this like an older child without a contract. That is basically what the Coup D'etat does, breaking the contract and all," Plum chimes in. "Besides, I should think that if a child did sign a Coup D'etat and their parent had not, they wouldn't have been separated just because of it."

"That's a really far-fetched notion, Aunt Aura," Marianne snorts before waving off any response. "But it makes sense. Technically, I'm still the legal guardian of Sunny, Masha, Brie, Kishan, and Dawn."

"Dawn?" Bog questions.

"Dad lost custody of both us, remember? Both of us are circus fleas. Which was always kind of strange to think about since I was also the owner," Marianne snickers. 'It's so freeing to be able to talk without holding back!'

"If ye don't mind, one day I'd like to hear the whole story," Bog comments before motioning to the folder he's holding. "I don't see anything that would prevent Kishan and the others from staying with the Dark Forest Circus instead of going to foster homes."

"We'll have to call Miss Vander to make sure it'll be alright but what about you, Bog? You already agreed to ten extra kids," Marianne remarks.

"What's a few more? Besides, I wouldn't have brought it up if I didn't already agree to it," Bog murmurs. "Kishan is obviously regretful of his actions and not just because of the consequences affecting him. If the others want to, they can come here as well, provided they obey the rules and don't make trouble."

"I'm almost positive Sunny will since he'll do anything to avoid returning to foster care, even if it would only be temporary. I'm not sure about Masha and Brie, though," Marianne comments.

"And yer sister?" Bog questions, laying a hand on her shoulder at her deep sigh. "Ye never mentioned where yer sister is going."

"I called Uncle Albion yesterday," Marianne admits softly, wincing as Plum drops her forehead to the table.

"That's not a good thing, is it?" Bog asks hesitantly.

"Uncle Albion is my dad's older brother and he's not exactly the easiest person to be around," Marianne explains.

"Cranky old coot, more like it," Plum mutters.

"Very serious, high standards, and no tolerance for foolishness," Marianne corrects. "He never cared much for the circus despite being raised in it and had left as soon as he was of age. Anyway, he's agreed to let Dawn stay with them until we're done touring and Reggis is on his way here to pick her up."

"Ah, Reggis. Now there's a sensible man, unlike his father," Plum remarks. "But shouldn't he already be with the circus?"

"I'm eighteen, so there wasn't a need for him to come back this year," Marianne reminds before explaining at Bog's questioning look. "Even though Judge Wayver did agree to let me run the circus, I still needed an adult relative to...well basically oversee legal matters since I was a minor. Dad couldn't and neither could Aunt Aura, so Uncle Albion was contacted and Reggis volunteered. The only thing he needed to do was travel with the circus while it was touring and make sure all my paperwork was completed properly, which it was. He was also required to report to the courts to confirm that everything was alright."

"But everything wasn't alright," Bog points out.

"In legal terms, it was. Circus drama isn't the courts' problem," Marianne quips. "Now, I better call Miss Vander so there's enough time to get this checked out."

Reaching for her cell phone, Marianne jumps as the device starts ringing. That can't be good. She swallows down the bile wanting to rise and grabs her pendant to take a few deep breaths.

"It's yer father," Bog mutters as he looks over her shoulder. "Marianne?"

"Here we go," she sighs, clicking on the speakerphone. "Morning, Daddy."

"Good morning, sweetheart," Donald murmurs. "I was getting a little worried that you blocked my number or at least wouldn't answer."

"You haven't called since Friday morning, so there was no need to block your number," she mutters.

"I haven't been able to get away from that overbearing creep long enough to talk to you without him hearing," he remarks.

"And yet you managed to call C.Y.S. on Saturday," Marianne comments, smirking at the long silence. "Miss Vander recognized your voice when she listened to the anonymous phone call. What are you doing, Dad?"

"Fixing things," Donald sighs. "Your Aunt Aura was right. Your mother would be so disappointed in me for falling this far. The lies, the drinking, abandoning you girls when you needed me. I'm disappointed in myself. It took watching you suffer from all the backlash from the failed wedding to finally snap out of it and it made me sick that I was going to condemn you to a life of misery. That man is a narcissistic pile of..."

Marianne coughs forcefully to signal the presence of impressionable ears and breathes a sigh of relief as her father takes the hint.

"Anyway, Roland is distracted at the moment. Our good friend Judge Wayver is here and so is a multitude of annoyed-looking officials," Donald continues. "They've been arguing for a good solid ten minutes."

"Nothing is funny about this mess, Dad," Marianne chides at his chuckling.

"On the contrary, Marianne, it's quite amusing," he laughs. "Oh dear, looks like I've been spotted. You're missing quite the show. It's the greatest performance I ever made!"

"Oh, no!" Marianne groans as the call ends abruptly.

"What? What is it?" Bog questions as Plum echoes the groan.

"He's sober!" both women answer with a horror-filled glance to each other.


	14. Day Four - Morning part 2

"You didn't have to come with me, you know," Marianne murmurs.

"No, I didn't have to," Bog agrees. "But I wanted to. I'm not letting ye face this alone."

"You didn't have to drive, either," she comments.

"I don't care if it's yer truck, ye're not driving after ye drank," he remarks.

"It was only a few sips," Marianne mutters.

"A few sips can do a lot. Quit trying to pick a fight with me," Bog orders.

Bog withholds his own sigh as he watches from the corner of his eye as Marianne's false ire deflates and she shrinks in the passenger seat. The changing traffic light gives him the opportunity to take his hand off the wheel to squeeze her smaller glove-covered hand.

As much pain as he has seen her go through since they met on Friday, this time it's a tangible monster looming over him as well. No sooner had the call with her father ended, then her cell phone rang again, this time with the city's mayor asking Marianne to be present. It seems that whatever argument her father had said was going on had put the city's officials in a precarious position and they needed the circus files before they could proceed.

At least they had gotten good news from Miss Vander about Kishan and the others while they were loading Marianne's truck with the needed files. It's hard to say who was more thrilled but he swore the stress burdening Marianne had lifted slightly...until they had started driving toward their destination.

"Are you still mad at me?" Marianne questions softly.

"Mad? I'm not mad at ye. Never have been," Bog answers

"I might have been a bit fuzzy but you sure looked mad when you walked into my trailer this morning," she comments.

"Who wouldn't be a little upset at finding ye drinking alcohol? Yer underage for starters and while I can't really ban any worker from drinking, the Dark Forest Circus does have a rule against drinking before and during working hours. To be honest, I was more upset at the possibility that it wasn't the first time you drank, especially when I saw how many bottles ye had stored away," he admits.

"Sorry," Marianne mumbles. "It was a dumb idea, I know."

"Not just dumb, it was dangerous," Bog comments, directing a soft smile her way to lessen the harshness. "It doesn't take much for that stuff to mess with ye."

"Are you talking from experience?" she asks.

"Never touched the stuff. I couldn't after what happened to my dad," he mentions before continuing at her question. "My dad died because of someone that only had 'a few sips'. The guy hadn't known his tolerance level."

"The paper never mentioned about the driver being drunk," Marianne murmurs.

"The driver of the car that hit Dad wasn't drunk and it wasn't his fault. Dad had been walking when he saw a man staggering across the highway and ignoring his friend's attempts at getting him back in the car, so he went to help. It worked since the guy was intimidated enough by Dad's looks that he allowed himself to be forced back into the car he escaped from. Unfortunately, his drunken belligerence came back full-force when Dad turned away and he punched Dad in the back. The oncoming car couldn't stop quick enough when Dad stumbled forward, too stunned to use his wings. He might have been fine if it wasn't for hitting his head," Bog explains.

"I'm sorry," she repeats. "For making you talking about your dad's death and for worrying you this morning. I really messed up."

"Ye made a mistake during a time of misery," he corrects. "Everyone has done that and don't let anyone tell ye any different. I nearly got married to someone I didn't really love like that, remember? As for my dad, it's only fair since ye told me about yer mother. It doesn't really hurt that much to talk about it now that I've come to terms with it because if it wasn't for him trying to help, that guy could've died while he was too drunk to know he was acting completely unlike himself. Dad was a hero. He was always like that."

"I wish I could've met him," Marianne sighs. "After Mom died, and after the other things, we came home to find a package from your father. He didn't have to but he sent the extra proceeds that the Dark Forest Circus had gotten with the Light Field Circus being closed those last three days."

"I remember that," Bog confirms. "Dad thought it was only fair, especially after hearing about the big top burning down. He said that though we were rivals, we are the same and should support each other."

"That's what the letter said. He also sent this," she comments, tugging on the amethyst dragonfly pendant. "Said it's to represent the solidarity of our circuses, the dragonfly being the emblem of the Dark Forest Circus and the amethyst being the jewel of the Light Field Circus. It's what gave me the idea of our circuses merging. Unfortunately, just mentioning how generous the Dark Forest Circus had been had gotten immediate grumbles, so I kept the merger idea quiet until I got all my research done. When I heard about his death, I almost thought it was a hopeless idea."

"I'm glad ye didn't give up on it," he murmurs.

"Me too," Marianne hums.

Bog gives her another smile before turning onto the road leading toward the Light Field Circus' circus grounds. It's strange how their lives were interconnected before they even met. Even stranger how everything turned out. Her mother's death and her father's subsequent breakdown caused his father to reach out to a rival circus, which in turn caused Marianne to entertain the thought of their circuses joining, and he suspected was also the reason Plum had chosen the Dark Forest Circus when she had left the Light Field Circus instead of trying to make it on her own. He hadn't missed how Marianne clings to her pendant for comfort whenever something worries her but he hadn't known that it was something his father had given.

"Marianne," Bog starts as a thought occurs. "If ye've been the owner of the Light Field Circus for the past six years, then yer father wasn't the one who sent this after my father died, is he?"

Motioning to the honey amber butterfly pendant hanging around his own neck, Bog nearly chuckles at the rising blush on Marianne's face as she shakes her head to answer his question. It was a natural assumption that the condolence gift from the Light Field Circus had been from Donald DuFae but he's not that surprised to discover it was merely another thing that connected their lives before they met.

"Your father's gift...whenever it felt like I was alone, it was like a constant reminder that I wasn't. That someone out there was encouraging me to keep pressing forward. So, I figured that returning the favor to his family would give the same feeling. Silly, huh?" Marianne mutters, smiling awkwardly while rubbing the amethyst dragonfly.

Bog shakes his head with a reassuring smile as he pulls into the circus ground parking lot and parks near the gathered vehicles. It wasn't silly at all. He understood completely.

The Light Field Circus' emblem decorated with the Dark Forest Circus' jewel had been his lucky charm since the day it arrived. Not only had the timely package containing the pendant and a well-written letter comforted his mother while he was busy filling his father's position as ringmaster but the pendant had also inadvertently stalled his and Yemma's wedding long enough for Greg to arrive without interrupting the ceremony. Who would have thought that something as simple as wanting to wear the charming gift to his wedding would keep him from marrying the wrong girl? Not that he had really appreciated looking everywhere when he couldn't find it despite having just seen it.

"Not silly. I did feel the same and this always gave me good luck," Bog comments, tugging on the honey amber butterfly.

He smirks as he leans across the distance to whisper "For good luck" in Marianne's ear before kissing her cheek. After all, why kiss the pendant when he could kiss the real thing.

* * *

Marianne takes a deep breath to calm her nerves. The enjoyment of Bog's kiss had lasted for only a second...until she had opened the truck door. Even over the distance and the slight wind rustling anything its invisible hands could grasp, they both could hear the loud arguing taking place. It seems Roland is pulling out all stops to keep the inevitable from taking place. That was obvious from the mayor's call but she hadn't thought it was this bad.

"I haven't heard him shut up since I arrived," Reggis grumbles, approaching the truck.

"I'm sorry you had to come all the way here, Reggis," Marianne murmurs.

"And miss you finally telling those idiots how stupid they are? I wouldn't miss it for the world," Reggis quips. "Who's your friend?"

"Oh! This is Gregory Kingly," She introduces, motioning to Bog as he joins them.

"Bog," Bog corrects with an amused smile. "I own the Dark Forest Circus. Marianne has been with us for the past few days."

"Are you taking good care of my girl?" Reggis questions sternly.

"She's been taking good care of us, actually," Bog laughs.

"Sounds like her," Reggis chuckles before sighing. "Are you ready for this, Marianne?"

"No," Marianne admits softly. "No, I'm not. But I guess there's no way to avoid it now. How long have you been here?"

"About ten or fifteen minutes. I planned to inform them of my arrival and my business here but hearing a mention that you would be arriving, I figured I'd wait until you came," Reggis answers.

Nodding her understanding, Marianne takes another deep breath before opening her truck's back door to remove the boxes filled with files. 'Time to get this over with.'

Both men follow diligently after her carrying their own boxes and she's grateful for their presence as they make their way toward the loud commotion. As nervous as she is about confronting those of the Light Field Circus after coming to terms with how terrible they really have treated her over the past several years, she's glad both men seemed to have come to a silent agreement to wait in the background and let her deal with it. Reggis wouldn't take offense if she had to ask him to back off, already having dealt with her independent nature since she was a toddler, but she didn't want Bog to think she didn't appreciate his presence.

"...you'll be lucky if I don't sue this shit-hole you dare call a city after I'm through!" Roland threatens.

"Mr Gilder, I suggest you use the fifth amendment before we add more charges against you," Mayor Rin Tai counters before noticing Marianne approaching. "Oh, thank Kami you're here! I wasn't sure how much more of this idiot I could take!"

Marianne suppresses the wince wanting to emerge as everyone turns to look at her. It's harder to suppress her wings' violent twitch beneath her duster as some of the expressions turn more hostile, including Dawn's. Seems they weren't all that repentant. At least she could see some who looked relieved at seeing her, and not just the police officers and C.Y.S. workers standing behind the city's mayor.

"Ah-ha! See, I told you! Arrest her!" Roland orders.

"On what charge?" Mayor Rin questions dully.

"Theft, of course," Roland scoffs. "I told you Marianne had stolen the circus files but you didn't believe me. Well, there's your proof!"

"The only thing those are proof of is your inaptitude," Mayor Rin comments haughtily. "Miss Marianne DuFae is here with those files because we need to assess what is registered as Light Field Circus property and whether one person here is qualified to be in possession of Light Field Circus property, not for her to be subjected to your inane ideations. You will refrain from any more of your vulgar proclivities."

She can hear Bog trying to muffle his chuckling behind her at the stunned silence and it's not helping her keep a straight face. Of course, Bog would know and recognize that Roland had severely irritated the normally cheerful woman but they didn't need to draw any more ire to themselves.

"Miss DuFae, would you be so kind as the set those files on this table so we can get started?" Mayor Rin asks sweetly.

"Of course," Marianne agrees, walking to place the box on the mentioned table.

"Hey! Wait a minute!" Roland yells, blocking Marianne's path. "She stole the Light Field Circus files and as the owner, I demand that you arrest her!"

"Roland, you are not the owner of the Light Field Circus and you can't have me arrested," Marianne states.

"They say that I am the owner, buttercup," Roland sneers, waving a hand toward the other workers. "We still got one more hour until the Coup D'etat deadline is over, which I'm sure can be extended since you stole those files in an attempt to stop us."

"Stop you? Explain how that works because I didn't even know about the Coup D'etat when I left to pick up the circus permit," Marianne reminds.

"Knock it off, Marianne! Quit being so selfish and hand over those files!" Dawn yells. "Can't you see what a mess you made? The Light Field Circus is going to close because of you!"

* * *

Bog growls as he hears several agreements in the gathered crowd of light fae-touched. He didn't care how many actually looked uneasy about the turn of events. Enough is enough! Especially as he notices Marianne's tight grip on the box she's carrying.

"The Light Field Circus is closed because ye all signed something ye had no business signing, so don't blame Marianne for something ye yerselves did!" Bog yells, snapping his wings open in his agitation. "None of this would have happened had ye not been dead set on attacking her, a bunch of grown adults banding together to attack a child!"

He gets some satisfaction as more of the Light Field Circus workers squirm under his glare but it isn't enough. There are still too many who seemed unconcerned about what they've been doing, too many not caring. Worse, it seemed even her sister looked to be caught up in whatever lies she was told.

"Bog," Marianne starts softly.

"No, Marianne, Mr Kingly is right," Reggis interrupts firmly. "Enough is enough. It's partially my fault for not stopping this earlier and I'm not going to let them worm out of taking responsibility for what they caused just because I promised to keep silent about what happened. Just because you own the Light Field Circus doesn't mean they get to blame you for their mess."

"Marianne doesn't own the circus, Reggis. She's not eighteen yet," Dawn argues.

"Marianne?" Bog mutters dumbfounded.

"I told you they kind of forget," Marianne reminds.

"But yer own sister?!" Bog counters.

"Dawn forgets her own birthday half the time," Marianne quips.

"That is true," Reggis confirms, moving to force the slightly shorter Roland out of the way to lay his box on the table.

"What do you being eighteen have to do with you owning the Light Field Circus?" Mayor Rin asks as Bog sets down the box he's carrying.

"We, uh...I kinda let them have the impression that Dad would retire when I turned eighteen," Marianne explains, setting her own box on the table but keeping a hand on the lid. "Where is Dad anyway?"

"Talking to Judge Wayver about his involvement in this whole fiasco," Mayor Rin answers. "Now, I know we discussed this last night but..."

"Quit ignoring me!" Roland yells.

Bog growls as Roland grabs Marianne's shoulder and roughly turns her to face him. He barely notices as he's not the only one moving to step forward to take action but he does notice the fear in the man's face when Marianne grabs the offending hand with her left hand and rips it off of her.

"I warned you I wouldn't hold back the next time you touched me," Marianne growls before slamming a fist into his jaw.

"Woah!" Bog breathes as Roland flies back to land several feet away. "Remind me to never make ye angry."

"You'd have to try very hard to make me that angry," Marianne mutters, sighing as Roland starts crying about the pain. "Sunny, quit gawking and get the first aid kit."

The mentioned teenager jolts out of his stunned shock to quickly run off to obey the order and despite the situation, Bog can't help smiling at the sight. It was a good sign. Maybe he was right when he told Marianne that she might have more supporters in the Light Field Circus than she thought and that they were just listening to the wrong person.

"What are you people waiting for? Arrest her for attacking me," Roland orders as Sunny helps him sit up while clutching his right hand against his chest.

"Mr Gilder, contrary to your opinion, we are neither blind nor ignorant. If any assault charges were to be filed, they would be against you as Miss DuFae was reacting to defend herself," Mayor Rin mentions.

"Defending herself? You call this defending herself! Look what that freak did to my hand!" Roland yells, showing his hand with five bleeding gouges running down the length.

"I knew I've been forgetting something," Marianne mutters at the resulting gasps.

Bog turns his attention from the wounded man to look down at Marianne as she looks at the fingers of her left hand. He hadn't noticed how sharp her fingernails were before but he's sure they weren't that way last night. In fact, they almost look like...a quick glance down to his own clawed hand confirms his suspicions. She really was a blend of dark fae-touched and light fae-touched.

"Wait, your nails weren't that long on Friday," Mayor Rin murmurs, grabbing Marianne's hand and looking over it. "They were really short."

"That's because I trim and file them every day but I kind of forgot to with everything that's been going on for the past few days, so they're at full length now," Marianne explains, snickering at the older woman's muttered comment of being jealous. "It's a fae-touched thing. How bad is it, Sunny?"

"Not that...Will you stop moving!" Sunny complains as Roland jerks his hand away.

"Sunny, duck!" Marianne orders.

Bog flicks his wings into action to propel him forward. He may have hated having fights breaking out in the Dark Forest Circus but he couldn't help but be grateful at the moment for the experience in stopping them. Grabbing Sunny's brown and white t-shirt, Roland's backhand only meets air as Bog lifts the teenager into his hold before flying back to Marianne. He pays no mind as several officers move to restrain Roland, focusing all his attention on the trembling seventeen-year-old clinging to him with a tight grip.

"He was...he was gonna...but I wasn't...I wasn't doing anything," Sunny whimpers. "I was just trying...trying to help. That's...that's all."

"Hey, hey, it's alright, Sunny," Marianne soothes when Bog lands beside her. "He didn't get you. He's not gonna get you. Why don't you go with the C.Y.S. workers and get your stuff, alright?"

"I don't want to go back to foster care," Sunny moans, burying his face against Bog's shoulder. "I know I shouldn't have signed that stupid piece of paper but please don't make me go back, Marianne!"

"You don't have to," Marianne reassures. "Just go with Mr Moraine and he'll explain everything to you and the others while we finish up here."

* * *

Marianne takes a moment longer to watch Bog walk away with the still frightened Sunny clinging to him. It had taken some effort to convince him to leave her side to help the C.Y.S. workers gather up the older circus fleas once it was made clear that Sunny had no intention of letting go of his savior. No doubt Sunny's flinching from every curse Roland yelled out had helped Bog make his decision.

"How could you do this, Marianne?!" Dawn huffs as she resists the worker trying to make her follow the group of kids. "You're taking this too far!"

"Reggis," Marianne sighs.

"I'm not leaving you to face them alone," Reggis states, thumbing to the gathered fae-touched adults.

Is it playing dirty? Probably. But it doesn't stop her from widening her eyes beseechingly toward her older cousin. She barely manages not to smirk as he mutters a curse before storming off and grabbing Dawn's arm to force her into compliance. However, the continued complaints from her sister rob any joy from her victory.

"As I was saying before I was rudely interrupted, are you sure you still want to follow through with what we discussed last night?" Mayor Rin questions.

"I don't got much choice," Marianne murmurs. "Even though the Coup D'etat was filled out wrong and had no chance of working, it's still legal."

"Of course it had no chance of working! You stole the files and now you're keeping Roland from fixing this by paying your buddies to arrest him on bogus charges," Jason accuses, getting agreements from a few other circus workers.

"Despite what you may think of me, I would never do anything that would put the Light Field Circus and everyone in it in danger. I have done everything I could possibly do to stop this from happening. Had you asked me, I would have even given over the ownership if it would have kept the Light Field Circus from closing," Marianne admits.

"That's what you say," Karen scoffs. "Of course, if you actually cared in the first place, you'd just hand over those files so Roland can get them changed into his name."

"Do you know how hard it was to replace all those files destroyed in the big top fire thanks to the office being kept too close? Incredibly hard. Hard enough that I have no desire to ever go through that again. So I keep all the original files back home whenever the circus goes on tour. These are copies," Marianne states, motioning to the three boxes. "They've always been copies and since you need to be reminded, to transfer a circus, you need the original files. Which are back home."

"What?" Roland mutters, too stunned to keep fighting the officer trying to bandage his hand.

"Exactly what I said," Marianne comments. "I had wondered why you didn't pull this stunt before we left home, which would have given you a better chance of succeeding, but that became pretty obvious when I called Pare an hour ago. Suffice to say, he's ticked."

The mention of the retired circus worker brings a drastic change and Marianne turns her attention from the cringing group of adults to the waiting mayor and chief of police. At least they feared the elder man enough to finally regret their actions but she couldn't find it in her to care at the moment.

It's strange. She was so worried about this moment coming to pass and now that it's finally here...it feels freeing.

"Okay, so those two contain basic information about everything registered and insured as Light Field Circus property and this one contains basic information of all present workers," Marianne explains, tapping the box she had carried.

"Have you figured out how to move everything since all but Mr DuFae signed the Coup D'etat and he's not exactly able to do the job?" Mayor Rin asks.

"Pare stopped touring two years ago but he still lives at the Light Field Circus' home grounds, along with most of the others that retired. He suggested rounding up those still able to do the work and come up here to retrieve everything. I just have to give him the go-ahead and they'll catch the first available ride here," Marianne answers before noticing the mayor's quick worried glance to the circus workers. "Pare and those back home were not included in the Coup D'etat plans. They hadn't even known about it until I called him and they're very upset at the news."

"So, they're not for it? I'm just asking to be sure there won't be any more problems," Mayor Rin mentions.

"It's alright, I understand. No, they're not for the Coup D'etat at all," Marianne reassures.

"Good. Now which of these files belongs to Mr Gilder? We haven't been able to get any information on him and he's not being very cooperative," Mayor Rin comments.

That was an understatement. But ignoring the complaining man-child as the officers finish dealing with his injuries, Marianne pulls out the requested file and hands it to the other woman. It doesn't take long for Mayor Rin's face to reflect confusion as she reads over the information and she quickly grabs her cell phone from her suit pocket to type something in.

"Holy shit!" Mayor Rin mutters stunned as both file and cell phone fall to the table before looking at Marianne with a finger pointed at Roland. "HE'S SIXTY-FOUR YEARS OLD?!"

"Yeah," Marianne confirms slowly. "And?"

"YOU PEDOPHILIC SON-OF-A-BITCH!" Donald screams, punching Roland across the face.

Marianne yelps as both men fall to the ground as Donald keeps attacking his opponent, not even caring about the few punches that Roland manages to land on him. There's no help to be found as she looks around for anyone to stop the fight as everyone from city official to circus worker to newly-arrived Bog, Reggis, C.Y.S. workers, and circus fleas stare at the scene in complete and utter shock. Even Judge Taylor offers no help as he slowly turns away from the fighting pair to stare at Marianne with wide eyes.

"Marianne," Taylor starts, a strained measure of control in his voice. "Did you know about Roland's age when you were dating and about to marry him?"

"Of course I knew. And?" Marianne repeats unconcerned.

"Marianne! He's nearly the same age as your grandfather!" Tayor growls.

"Hey, they were the ones pushing for me to be with him and they didn't think anything wrong with it," Marianne defends, waving a hand to the circus adults.

"But they didn't know his age, did they?" Taylor counters.

"How should I know? It's not my responsibility to make sure everyone knows everyone's age," Marianne argues. "Besides, no matter how good he looks for his age, he's still older than me and no one had cared at the time. I'm not saying you, I mean them. Dad, let go of Roland!"

Her order goes unheeded and Marianne runs over to help the officers pull her enraged and still cursing father off the weakening Roland. She never thought she'd regret her dad not being in a drunken stupor but man, trying to move him while he's sober is like trying to move a steamroller! She had forgotten how strong he was!

"Sorry, Daddy," Marianne mumbles with a wince before slightly pinching his upper wings' connecting joint.

The effect is instantaneous and she's grateful for the two officers helping her keep him from falling to the ground when his legs give out from the pain. Tears running down her father's face increase her guilt and she murmurs more apologies as she helps him to a nearby chair.

"Hush, Marianne, it's alright. I'm...fine," Donald groans, settling himself. "You wouldn't happen to have...?"

"This?" Marianne questions, producing the opened vodka bottle from her duster's pocket.

"As grateful as I am, I'm more ashamed that you knew I'd need it," Donald sighs, grabbing the bottle before noticing Taylor's disapproving look. "I'll get sober in jail, Judge. Right now, there's no way I'm not going to kill that bastard if I stay sober much longer!"

"Jail?" Marianne mutters sadly.

"I'm sorry, Marianne," Taylor murmurs, turning his attention toward the mayor and police chief sorting through the files as Donald takes a drink from the bottle. "As your father was the only Light Field Circus worker who did not sign the Coup D'etat, he inadvertently violated his probation's conditions of not working with anything not pertaining to his ringmaster job by being the only one legally allowed to be in possession of Light Field Circus property. He has to be taken back to my county to be arraigned before another judge for the probation violation and determine the consequences. It's hard to tell what may happen but I'll do my best to make sure the overseeing judge will have a full understanding of the situation and will be as lenient as possible."

"Cheer up, sweetheart, it's only a few months at most if I do get the book thrown at me," Donald reassures, taking another drink before continuing more seriously with a finger pointed toward the officers helping Roland to his feet. "But no matter what happens, you and I are going to have a nice long talk about how you knew Roland's age and had agreed to marry him anyway. I thought he was in his late twenties!"

"At least I hadn't known then about Roland's twenty-two kids," Marianne comments before gasping as her father starts choking. "Dad!"

* * *

Bog watches Marianne hover worriedly over her father as he coughs up the vodka he swallowed wrong. He almost didn't know what to think...well, other than finishing the beating Donald had started on Roland. Clearly, he isn't the only one thinking such as Uncle Taylor suggests to the police chief about removing Roland before anything else happened.

"She's lying! All of it is a lie, just like how she lied for Aura when that witch stole the money!" Jason yells, finally snapping out of his stupor as the officers cuff Roland. "She changed Roland's file just like she changed the financial records!"

"That's enough, Jason," Donald calls before coughing once more.

"You're right, DuFae," Conner comments snidely. "It is enough. No wonder you kept defending Marianne no matter what she did. She's no better than that witch, filling you up with alcohol and keeping you dependent on her."

"Ye've got to be kidding me! Are ye seriously that stupid?!" Bog questions incredulously. "Marianne just turned eighteen on Friday, how could she possibly be responsible for his drinking? She was a child!"

"Shows what you know. Marianne's birthday isn't until Wednesday," Dawn huffs, keeping her focus on trying to pull her arm from Reggis' grip.

"It was Friday," Donald confirms, smirking as the circus workers return to their shocked state as they focus on him. "I warned you that a Coup D'etat always destroys you in the end. Now every last one of you jackasses will remember what it's like to be treated like you're nothing. Like you're lower than dirt because of your differences. You have no job or income now, most of you have lost your homes because they're on Light Field Circus property, and some of your travel trailers and vehicles are registered to the Light Field Circus as well. Did you really think you'd get away with what you've done to my little girl?"

Despite his best efforts, Bog can't contain the smirk spreading across his face as the full reality of the situation finally dawns on the Light Field Circus workers. Donald had planned it to happen this way from the moment he called Marianne the first time. He had probably figured that she was at the Dark Forest Circus when she had delayed coming back on Friday and from his distress on Saturday about her not being there, had hoped that she would have stayed with them. Marianne was right when she said that Donald had done this to fix things but Bog had been right as well, this was a father's revenge.

"We never should have listened to Roland," Sunny mutters.

"Why did ye?" Bog asks, getting most of the workers to look at him. "Marianne asked a question on Friday and none of ye managed to answer it in all the phone and text messages ye sent her. When has Marianne ever done something that wasn't good for everyone in the Light Field Circus?"

"Roland said...," seventeen-year-old Felix starts.

"Ye mean that idiot right there that not only tried to punch Sunny because he was trying to help him but is also responsible for all the younger circus fleas being taken away because of neglect," Bog interrupts, motioning toward the officers escorting Roland away. "He probably doesn't even know that one of ye ran away yesterday because of how little he cares about ye."

"He's got a point," fourteen-year-old Brie mumbles, her long orange cat-like ears laying back.

"Wait, who ran away?" Karen questions.

"Please tell me she's kidding," Mayor Rin pleads, looking up from the circus files. "Miss DuFae, are you absolutely sure you're not going to press charges against any of them?"

"If it gets any more stupid, she better," Donald mutters, eyeing the mostly full bottle of vodka before tipping it to empty on the ground. "Mr Kingly is right, though. None of you have anything against Marianne that isn't connected to Roland somehow. Even the incident with Aura was caused by him."

"He heard you and Aunt Aura arguing about the money and her saying that you were wrong for choosing money over family. Just because Roland showed us the truth doesn't mean that he caused it, Daddy," Dawn defends.

"You're talking about things you know nothing about, Dawn," Donald argues sternly. "Roland doesn't know the truth any more than any of you do and it's about time you did."

"Dad, don't!" Marianne pleads.

Bog jumps slightly at the kick to his foot and turns his attention away from the whispered conversation now taking place between father and daughter to look at Reggis. The older man gives Bog a significant look before nodding to Marianne and then gesturing to the struggling Dawn. Nodding his understanding, Bog takes a deep breath before striding quickly to the distracted woman. No doubt Marianne will be angry at him for what he's about to do but Reggis couldn't let go of Dawn. It was hard enough trying to catch her the first time she got away while they were gathering the circus fleas' stuff and he had no desire to repeat the chase.

"Sweetheart, you tried so hard to protect me but you can't change what I did," Donald murmurs.

"It wasn't you!" Marianne protests quietly before squeaking as Bog picks her up with an arm around her waist. "Bog, put me down!"

"Sorry, Marianne," Bog mutters, covering her mouth with his hand. "Ye remember that talk we had about how ye can't protect someone that doesn't want yer help? Well, that crazy aunt of yers is right too. This is one of those times that ye need to shut off that part of ye that needs to protect. If yer father is ready to tell what happened six years ago, then let him tell it. Maybe it's time they did hear the truth."

"What would you know about the truth? You're as big a liar as she is, you big cockroach freak!" Dawn snarls.

Rolling his eyes at the insult, Bog ignores as both Donald and Reggis turn their ire on the fifteen-year-old and instead focuses on the still figure in his grasp. It was worrying. One minute she had been fighting to escape his hold, and nearly winning, then she went rigid. Murmuring her name gets no result even as he removes his hand off her mouth.

"Not another word, Dawn!" Donald orders, moving to stand before sitting roughly back down with a groan. "Mr Kingly deserves respect and you will give it to him. If anyone has lied, it's me, not him and not your sister."

"Ugh! You're always defending her! No matter how much trouble Marianne causes, you don't care! She doesn't even care that she closed the Light Field Circus and cost everyone their home! It's all her fault!" Dawn argues.

"My fault?" Marianne repeats lowly, waving her hand to stem off any other responses as she turns her attention to her struggling sister. "Tell me, Dawn, how is this my fault?"

Despite how calm she is acting at the moment, Bog can feel the tenseness in Marianne's form and he hugs her tighter against him in an effort to defuse the ticking time-bomb within his arms. He wouldn't blame her for lashing out as those that tormented her for years but he knows her well enough by now to know that the damage she'd do to them will be paltry compared to the anguish she'd inflict on herself later. He breathes a sigh of relief as she relaxes slightly and eases more against him.

"Like you don't know," Dawn scoffs. "You act so high-and-mighty as if you're better than all of us, sticking your nose in where it doesn't belong, and you always have to be in control. Well, here's a news flash, Marianne, you don't even belong in the circus! You don't know what it's like for people to treat you badly because of how you look."

"That's the best you can come up with? You, who's never had one wrong word spoken against and never have been rejected because of who you are or what you look like. You're complaining because I don't know what it's like to be treated like shit over something I have no control over? You're kidding, right?" Marianne laughs darkly. "Sweet baby Dawn, who is so fortunate that she isn't a fae-touchedless freak like her big sister. Oh, that's right, no one was ever supposed to hear that. It's not like you're the only one that said it, so no big deal. I just find it...hilarious how you justify your treatment of me because I wouldn't understand how mistreated a fae-touched is."

"When have I ever called you a freak?" Dawn asks haughtily, only her twitching salmon and black butterfly-like wings betraying her unease.

"Now who's playing dumb?" Marianne counters, smirking sharply. "You know what's funny? I spent my whole life in this circus and most of you judged me because you thought I was non-fae-touched but the second I walked into the Dark Forest Circus, they took one look at me and knew that I was fae-touched. They knew it right away while every single one of you assumed that I wasn't!"

"What? Marianne, you're fae-touched?" Sunny questions hesitantly.

"I was born fae-touched!" Marianne states proudly.

'Seriously!' Bog groans inwardly as the shocked looks make a reappearance, barely resisting moving one of his hands off Marianne to cover his face. Instead, he lowers his head to lay on top of Marianne's head as silent laughter begins to shake his body. This really is getting stupid. How could they be so shocked at the news that Marianne is fae-touched? Shouldn't that be something they'd be rejoicing over with how much a fuss they made over thinking she was non-fae-touched?

He grunts as Marianne lightly elbows his stomach and he retaliates by poking her side. She couldn't fool him. She was struggling not to laugh out loud as much as he was. He had thought these people were stupid before but this is ridiculous!

"You...you're lying!" Dawn accuses. "You're not fae-touched. I would know!"

"Know? Know what? Everything was right there in front of you and you never noticed. It was so obvious that even Grandpa had wondered how no one realized it," Marianne remarks. "But to answer your question of when have you ever called me a freak, here's something less physically obvious to my fae-touch. See that police officer headed this way, he's here with another warrant for Roland's arrest."

"How do you know that?" Mayor Rin asks, exchanging a confused look with the police chief.

"Because before heading here, he stopped at the cruiser Roland was put into to inform him that you will be transferring him to Faedell County to face the charges against him there since Roland is still insisting that you have no right to arrest him," Marianne answers, grinning as the police chief quickly scans the piece of paper the officer hands him before staring at the long distance to the parking lot in shock. "I have exceptional hearing. Though, to be honest, I did know Roland was going to be in trouble since I had also called the Faedell County clerk earlier this morning to make sure he had paid his child support payments on Friday and found out that he told them that he was no longer with the Light Field Circus. But I am surprised about the statutory rape charge since I thought the Bowgers hadn't planned to file them until after the baby was born but I guess with Roland misinforming the courts of his location as a way to stop paying child support, they figured on not taking chances on him possibly avoiding facing charges for knocking-up their fifteen-year-old daughter."

"Marianne!" Donald starts.

"I did not know about that until the day of the wedding!" Marianne defends hastily at her father's growl. "And since that is also everyone's complaint against me, I called off the wedding because I discovered Roland with his pregnant teenage lover. What I saw and heard is not to be repeated or even acknowledged until the girl's parents filed charges and it goes to court. So, let's see, there goes your complaint of me not being fae-touched, my cancellation of the wedding, and...what else was there?"

"Roland's docked pay after the failed wedding," Bog answers.

"Right, of course. Now that was a mess to find out that he was supposed to have been paying child support for the four years he was with us but he had neglected to inform the courts of his whereabouts. They found out where he was because of us filing for the marriage license and they contacted me a few hours after I called off the wedding. Though really, I should have just let him go to jail for delinquincy instead of paying off the back payments and fine for him," Marianne mutters.

Bog can't help the groan that escapes him at that last part, joining Uncle Taylor and her father's groaned version of her name. Even Reggis is looking toward Marianne with exasperation.

"I wasn't that stupid. It's in writing that he has to pay me back for every cent I paid out," Marianne comments lightly before losing all jovialness. "But the point remains, not one single one of you have a valid reason for what you did to me. You signed the Coup D'etat because of petty hatred."

* * *

Marianne sighs at the resulting silence. It's hard to deny that she was hoping that someone would argue against her last statement, anyone, but no one did. Guilty and ashamed looks are all she gets in response and it is...disappointing. Heartbreaking, even. Was it too much to hope for that they might have had a legitimate complaint against her? Something that wasn't some biased grudge?

'Apparently,' she admits silently, leaning slightly more against Bog's reassuring form before patting his arms to let her go. There was no more point sticking around. She had her answers and while it wasn't satisfactory, it'll have to be enough. Mayor Rin had the circus files, so they didn't really need her until after they get everything sorted and that would probably take a few hours.

"Sunny, Masha, Brie, did Mr Kingly and Mr Moraine explain the choice you have?" Marianne asks.

"I...," sixteen-year-old Masha starts.

"We're coming with you!" Brie answers hastily, kicking Masha's leg and ignoring her sister's resulting glare.

"Brie!" Marianne admonishes lightly. "Is that what you want, Masha?"

"I...I don't know," Masha mutters, her long black cat-like ears pinned to her head as she fiddles with her long white cat-like tail between her hands.

"How about ye come with us for now and if ye're still unsure later, ye can say so then?" Bog suggests gently, getting a hesitant smile from the light fae-touched girl.

"Sunny?" Marianne questions.

"We...we really messed up, Marianne. Are you...are you sure you still want us?" Sunny asks instead.

"That's too stupid a question to answer. Go put your stuff in my truck," Marianne orders, smiling as the younger teen starts laughing. "We'll pick up the cots and everything else later once everything is done. That is alright with you, isn't it, Mayor?"

"Yes, perfectly fine," Mayor Rin confirms. "I'll call you when we're done. As well as if anything comes up beforehand. Though I'm sure we won't have any trouble with how meticulous your paperwork is. If you ever get tired of being in the circus, do tell me because my father, Shiba Tai of DaiInu Corp., could use a replacement secretary. Jake can definitely learn a thing or two from you."

Marianne shakes her head in amusement as the police chief can't stop his immediate laughter before coughing to cover it up and admonishing his smirking fiancee for picking on the old man. Out of all the city officials she had to deal with over the past six years, Mayor Rin was the easiest to get along with and the most encouraging. Not that there were many who had a discouraging attitude because of her age and those that did, usually changed their mind about her after she proved how well she did her job.

Another sigh breaks free as she lets herself admit that those of Light Field Circus never wanted her and nothing could change their mind, whether she did a good job or not. 'Guess it's a good thing they did sign that cursed contract on Friday before Bog and I made any arrangements concerning merging our circuses,' Marianne muses before turning her attention to her father.

"I'll be fine, sweetheart," Donald reassures at her worried look. "I'm sure Judge Wayver will keep you informed and I'll call whenever I'm allowed. I..."

"Dad, what's wrong?" Marianne questions as he groans lowly before looking at the empty vodka bottle.

"I think it might be best if I...what I mean is, I've been thinking of going to a rehab clinic," Donald admits. "It's gone too far. Trying to lessen the amount I drink for the past few days didn't do a damn thing and I haven't been...feeling right, especially since yesterday. This isn't...I should have never let this happen. Why did I let this happen, Annabelle? Just look at what I've done to our little girls."

"Dad, what's wrong?" Marianne repeats.

Moving forward to gain his attention as his green eyes lose focus and he starts muttering incoherently, Marianne stops as her father drops the bottle before raising a shaking hand to cover his face as the other grips the arm of the chair. Her worries grow as the plastic chair's arm breaks underneath his hand as the tremors coursing through his form increase. She can only watch in horror as the two nearby officers rush into action and help ease her father onto the ground before using their bodies to pin his shaking body to the ground.

"Call an ambulance!" Taylor orders before moving to help the officers.

"What is happening?!" Dawn yells, grabbing Reggis' arm instead of resisting his hold.

Marianne is grateful as Bog wraps his arms around her again but she can't turn her eyes away from her father. Even as his shaking increases despite the weight of three men holding him down and even as his form becomes blurred by the tears filling her eyes, Marianne keeps watching, her heart breaking as the strongest man she knows shatters before her.

* * *

Bog sighs as he parks Marianne's truck beside his own before turning his attention to the four forlorn teenagers riding with him. It had been nothing but silence from them since the moment they were loaded into the vehicle and while he appreciated that there wasn't any fighting, the tangible monster from earlier seemed to grow under the heavy atmosphere.

"Hey, it's going to be alright," Bog reassures.

"How can you be so sure?" Sunny questions softly.

"Because Marianne won't let it be anything else," Bog answers with a sad smirk.

The seventeen-year-old chuckles slightly before nodding with a smile toward the older man beside him. Shaking off the worry, Sunny unbuckles the front passenger seatbelt before turning to usher the three girls in the back seat to do the same.

"Where's Marianne?" Griselda asks, approaching the vehicle as they exit.

"She went with her father to the hospital," Bog starts.

"Hospital!" Plum repeats loudly, causing Bog to jump at her sudden appearance.

"Plum! Will ye please stop doing that!" Bog growls.

"Nevermind that, Gregory," Griselda scolds. "What happened? Who went to the hospital and why?"

"Daddy," Dawn whimpers. "He..he started shaking and...and..."

"Mr DuFae had a seizure," Bog explains when the fifteen-year-old starts crying.

"Donald doesn't have seizures. It's not even in the DuFae family history," Plum argues.

"Uncle Taylor thinks it might be alcohol withdrawal, especially after Marianne confessed that her father had been drinking since the hearing because he refused to take any pain medication because of what had happened," Bog informs. "When they get done helping the city officials sort out the mess in the Light Field Circus, both Uncle Taylor and Reggis want to have a word with ye about how ye also knew about the alcoholism and never said anything to them, Plum."

"That's not going to be any fun," Plum groans. "It's not like it was that bad. A glass a day at most."

"Only when ye were still with the Light Field Circus and had kept the liquor in yer tent. It was different when ye left. Did ye see all those bottles stashed in Marianne's trailer?" Bog questions.

"Seen and removed," Plum quips.

"Well, that's less than a two-week supply," Bog mutters, turning away from the shocked woman to remove the duffle bags from the truck's bed and handing them to the waiting teens.

"Oh, Donald!" Plum moans, running a hand through her long pale blue hair. "How is he?"

"Don't know," Bog admits. "The seizure was done by the time the ambulance arrived but he was unresponsive and the paramedics...expressed concern because his pulse was too fast for someone his age. I told Marianne that I would drop off the kids and pick up her father's medical papers before joining her at the hospital so that she could accompany the paramedics."


	15. Day Four - Afternoon

"Bog...," Marianne tries.

"Forget it, Marianne, we're not leaving ye," Bog states firmly.

"I might not be able to leave until late tomorrow night and the circus...," she starts to point out.

"We normally don't leave until tomorrow morning anyway and ye know that," he interrupts. "Waiting another day won't hurt anything since it won't take too much to make up for lost time to get to the next city. When will the moving crew be here?"

"Pare managed to snag several seats on an early flight, so he and a few others will be here in the morning and the others will arrive later in the evening," Marianne answers. "It'll take them a few days to pack everything up but I'm sure Mayor Tai won't have a problem with it."

"Or. We of the Dark Forest Circus could help pack everything so they won't have any problems," Bog suggests. "Since those that are coming are a bit up there in age, this would make it easier on them and all they would have to do is drive the stuff home."

"You'd do that?" she questions in shock, getting a nod and an amused smile. "But that's a lot of work after already packing everything for one circus."

"I'm sure it'll be fine," he reassures.

"Then those that help will be getting paid by me for their work. And no arguing!" Marianne warns.

Marianne smirks in triumph as Bog huffs his reluctant agreement but the sight of an approaching doctor causes her tenseness to return full-force...only to deflate in weary defeat as they approach another in the waiting room. She almost can't take it anymore. After two hours of no news, she is starting to assume the worst. Surely the doctors would have something by now!

"Marianne," Bog murmurs, taking her gloved hand and bringing it to his lips. "What else, Marianne?"

She knows what he's trying to do. She also, kinda, maybe, probably, most likely, appreciates it too. But! She also wants to hit him as he keeps pressing kisses to each of her fingers. It's not like she can deny the power he has over her thanks to the stupid blush heating her face.

"What else needs done, Marianne?" he prods, kissing the faux-leather-covered palm.

"I thought you said we should take 'us' slow," she mutters.

"And we should," Bog agrees easily before smirking and leaning over to kiss her ear.

'Stupid ear!' Marianne growls silently as said object twitches noticeably at the gesture. 'Stupid dragonfly-man!'

"Have ye figured out what to do about those of the Light Field Circus?" he asks.

'There kills that mood,' she sighs, leaning back heavily into the chair before answering. "I really don't know. I mean, I know what I have to do but it just seems so cruel to just throw them out. I know they brought this on themselves but most of them have nowhere to go! How can I just turn them away? No matter what they did, they're still family, circus family but family nonetheless."

"Maybe there's another way around the Coup D'etat, just like with the circus fleas," Bog suggests. "How many don't have anywhere else to go?"

"I wouldn't be able to give you an exact number at the moment but I'm almost positive that it's roughly sixty percent," Marianne murmurs after a few minutes. "And at least forty-three percent of them know nothing other than the circus, either born in the Light Field Circus or born from another circus and came to us later."

"And they all live on the Light Field Circus' home grounds?" he questions, getting a nod. "I don't think it's against the Coup D'etat's rules to let them keep living there. I mean, after all, back when the Coup D'etat contract was formed, those workers would have been forced to stay with the circus until the contract was finished, so it shouldn't be a problem if ye let those with nowhere to go to stay on yer property."

"That's a good point," she mutters, furrowing her brow as she visualizes the Coup D'etat's rules.

"It'd be up to ye since they'd have no income coming in to support them and they won't be paying their keep," Bog mentions.

"With the closing of the Light Field Circus, I got plenty of money, so it doesn't matter," Marianne dismisses. "Besides, those back home won't go easy on them and let them live there without any labor. There's always some kind of work to be done on the grounds and those that go home will be working harder than if the circus stayed open. Pare will make sure of that."

"Ye make this Pare fellow sound like a harsh man," he comments.

"Oh, he's a big teddy bear actually," she chuckles briefly. "But he can get a bit harsh. Out of all those in the Light Field Circus, Pare knows firsthand how deadly life can get for the fae-touched. Do you remember when I explained why Grandpa thought to keep my wings a secret?"

"About Plum's vision or about the newcomers to the Light Field Circus?" Bog asks.

"The newcomers. Pare was one of them and he's also the most scarred of them as well," Marianne explains. "The dark fae-touched may have been the owner's champion but Pare was her biggest threat for that title and the circus owner wouldn't have had it any other way. Their fights were the main attraction to that sleazy circus and when the revenue started failing, he forced them to fight...more brutally. The fight that closed that circus had sent Pare into a coma for two weeks and the dark fae-touched was sent to a mental institute where she died several months later."

"That definitely makes yer grandfather's worries sound more reasonable," he admits, cringing at the new knowledge.

"Pare admitted that, too. Saying that even he couldn't have said for sure whether he and the others would have reacted well at discovering a dark fae-touched at their new home when they were still unsure about their new home," she comments before continuing at Bog's raised eyebrow. "Pare is one of the few that knows I have wings. Not everyone who stayed behind and witnessed the fire had seen my wings because I had already put my nightgown back on by the time they noticed our escape but several had seen them when Aunt Aura was checking me for how bad my injuries were. I was actually surprised more hadn't known with how she carried on about how damaged they were."

* * *

Marianne runs a clawed hand through her short brown hair with a sigh as she exits the passenger-side of her truck and steps onto the Light Field Circus' circus grounds for the second time that day. It's times like this that she utterly hates her incessant compulsion to help others and the ingrained need to do the right thing no matter how she feels about it. She hated it more during the times her emotions couldn't pick a single feeling and stay that way.

'Make up your mind already, Marianne,' she mentally chides herself. First, the morning started with her being a crying mess who thought getting drunk would help. Then by mid-morning, all her worry, sadness, and fear for those of the Light Field Circus was replaced by annoyance, anger, and being completely fed-up with their treatment of her.

Her father's medical emergency had then taken precedence and she couldn't even care about anything but him at the time. She'll be eternally grateful to Bog for suggesting to take the kids to the Dark Forest Circus so that she didn't have to wait to settle everything else before taking care of her dad because she doesn't even know if she could have done it.

Then she went back to worrying, not only for her dad but also for both circuses once Bog arrived at the hospital and informed her of everything that happened when the ambulance left. As relieved as she was to know that Reggis had stayed to help the city officials deal with the mess surrounding Light Field Circus property, Dawn temporarily staying with the Dark Forest Circus until they leave was a bit concerning with how...bratty she has become lately. Even more concerning was the obvious fact that none of those in the Light Field Circus had a back-up plan should the Coup D'etat fail.

With the call from Mayor Rin ten minutes ago to inform her that they are done, everything seems more real, more final, and honestly, she doesn't even know how she feels about this whole mess now. Knowing her dad is...relatively okay, at least for the moment, relieved some of her tension but that still leaves the whole mess surrounding dozens of others to deal with. She wants to help them, she does, but she also wants them to pay for the pain they caused her. And then there's the guilt that she can feel clawing at her, demanding attention to how she failed them.

"Hey," Bog softly calls, breaking up her thoughts. "Are ye alright, Marianne?"

"I...I don't know," she admits, rubbing her dragonfly pendant. "I don't know how I feel or even how I should feel. I just...I don't know. You're right. They were wrong in how they treated me. That isn't my fault but I can't help feeling like I've let them down. But at the same time, I'm...it hurts and I want them to hurt as well. I really don't...I mean..."

Bog's hands gripping her shoulders cause her disjointed chatter to end with another sigh and she takes a deep relaxing breath before looking into his calm blue eyes.

"It's okay," he reassures. "Not entirely okay, but that's okay, too. Ye don't have to have all the answers and the answers that ye need to have don't have to be here right away. It's been...a hectic few days. All our lives have been affected by this, yers the most. We'll figure everything out, together, and with the others. Alright?"

Nodding her agreement, Marianne gives Bog a quick smile before turning her attention past his figure to the gathered crowd farther away. At least she has a way to protect those who would accept her protection thanks to Bog's clever thinking. Although, she can't help wondering if forcing them to rely on her for the sake of having nowhere else to go will only cause more trouble later on.

"I need to burn off some energy first," Marianne sighs.

* * *

Bog blinks at her statement before humming in understanding as Marianne walks toward the big top instead of the waiting crowd near the fenced-off living area. He dutifully follows the agitated woman through the cluttered maze of circus booths, barely able to keep his opinions of the poor layout to himself.

'No wonder people grumbled about this,' he growls silently, being forced to duck thanks to a very low string of lights across the walkway. A muttered curse from Marianne as she trips over an awkward cable jutting from the nearby booth draws his attention and he barely keeps from making the same mistake. The next obstacle makes itself known very quickly and they both stop to stare at the magnitude of stupidity displayed by those of the Light Field Circus.

"This is just ridiculous!" Marianne groans.

"Ye've got to be kidding me. There's no way they're that stupid," Bog mutters.

"Apparently they are," she quips. "I mean, who puts a dead-end on a path that should lead to the big top?"

A very good question. Especially since the big top's main entrance is visible on the other side of the blockade. If it was just booths blocking the way it wouldn't be so bad since one could always walk around the booths to get to the desired destination, but apparently in an attempt to keep something like that from happening, they decided to place walls between the booths. A quick look around reveals that all the booths have walls between them.

It was a terrible idea. Not only did it restrict the movements of any visitor but the workers probably couldn't move around that well themselves. Sure, a lot of them had wings and could fly above but...

"Okay, now I have to question their sanity," he comments as he stares above them in shock. "If ye think that's bad, look up."

"Seriously?!" Marianne yelps after following his instruction.

The crisscrossed strings of lights above them explained those wires he had to keep ducking underneath. Any winged worker would not be able to fly with that webbed nightmare looming over them. No doubt it illuminated the circus very brightly for the past three nights...extremely brightly by the looks of all the bulbs...probably too brightly. Were they trying to make it day during the night?

He's almost afraid to see what the rest of the circus looks like. Though, that doesn't stop him from following Marianne back down the path to the adjoining path they had passed.

"Forget jail. I'm gonna kill him," Marianne mutters as they hit another dead-end.

"This definitely explains our sold-out sales," Bog hums.

"Hush, you," she huffs.

Bog can't stop his amused chuckle as they move to the next path but it quickly dies as they hit another dead-end. Three dead-ends later and he nearly agrees with Marianne's grumbled idea of wrecking the cruel form of torture beyond recognition, especially as they approach a gaudy kissing booth on the next path.

"Finally!" Bog groans as they reach the big top's main entrance.

"For the record, this is not how the Light Field Circus is usually set up," Marianne defends.

"That never crossed my mind," he responds. "No wonder Kishan said they didn't have one visitor for the big top shows. They probably couldn't find the entrance."

Marianne's laughter echoes through the large tent as they make their way inside and he moves to sit on the front row as she makes her way across the expanse to the tightrope platform's ladder. Taking a moment to look around, Bog spots the differences from his own big top set-up but he's surprised by how much they're nearly alike. It is curious. How could two different circuses be so alike?

"How's Uncle Donald?" Reggis questions.

Bog barely keeps from jumping at the sudden sound and he glances beside him as Reggis moves to sit down. The man isn't alone, though, as Uncle Taylor sits down on Bog's other side. Soon the stands are quickly filled with Light Field Circus workers, circus monkeys, and city officials as Marianne climbs higher.

"Noticed Marianne headed this way and figured she was planning on doing this, so we came through the backstage. It's quite the treat that no one misses out on," Reggis explains.

"And yet, she wasn't allowed to perform for the public," Bog mutters snidely.

He gets some satisfaction at the cringes from the circus adults. They should feel ashamed of themselves and he wasn't nearly done making sure they know such a fact. Though, it's probably best to address Reggis' first question before the man's worries get any worse.

"Mr DuFae is in stable condition right now. The doctors can't guarantee anything but they did say his chances are improved with him being in the hospital and able to get immediate treatment should he need it," Bog finally answers. "Even though he woke up and was coherent, they sedated him to lessen the effects of the alcohol withdrawal and they also had to pump his stomach to remove the vodka he had drunk. The fact that he had nothing else is his stomach said that he hadn't eaten anything for at least a day, so he's been sick for a while and no one noticed it."

"How long is Donald going to stay in the hospital?" Taylor asks.

"At least a week, maybe two. It all depends on how well he holds up," Bog murmurs.

"My flight isn't going to be a problem since I didn't buy a return ticket for me and Dawn but I can't stay for more than another two days," Reggis mutters. "Is Marianne going to stay behind with Uncle Donald?"

"No. She called yer father shortly after she arrived at the hospital and he's already made arrangements to stay with his brother for however long necessary," Bog informs before continuing. "She also called those at the Light Field Circus' home grounds and those coming to move everything will be here tomorrow. So we, the Dark Forest Circus, are going to postpone leaving until Wednesday morning. That way Marianne doesn't have to rush to catch up with us."

"Ready!" Marianne calls.

Bog turns his eyes upward and smirks as Marianne takes a dramatic pose before bowing to her waiting audience. He's glad that the added watchers don't stop her from continuing.

"Oh, this is so exciting!" Mayor Rin gushes. "We hadn't been able to get a ticket to the Dark Forest Circus before they sold out and my uncle has been mocking my father since Friday over what a fantastic new act we missed!"

"This isn't the same as the act she performed during the Dark Forest Circus' big top show," Bog mentions, keeping his eyes on Marianne as she strides onto the wire. "But we have been talking about adding it next year. Possibly."

Ignoring Reggis' look of surprise and question about Marianne performing publically, Bog keeps his full attention on Marianne, his wings flicking slightly as she steps off the wire before grabbing it with her gloved-covered hands and swinging around. He doubts that he'd ever lose that split-second fear but it does make him feel better to hear the hitched breaths and gasps around him, and not from just from the city officials. At least he isn't alone in his unease at the death-defying feat. The lack of a safety net didn't help, especially with her wings confined under her duster.

'It might be less nervewracking once she starts allowing her wings their freedom,' he muses as she swings upward with dazzling acrobatics. Another twitch of his wings accompanies as she grabs the wire on her downward spiral and he nearly growls at himself for his foolishness. He watched her perform this twice before. He knows that she knows what she's doing, so he needs to stop acting so foolish.

Marianne's next swing propels her with power, her upward dance the most elaborate he's seen her do so far.

"So fabulous!" Mayor Rin cheers as Marianne moves to grab the wire once more. "I think..."

The sound of snapping metal rings loudly through the big top before screams from the watching crowd cover it as Marianne jerks with the force of the wire's destruction before plummeting with the falling tightrope. Bog's wings can't react fast enough and he drops back onto the bench in relief as Marianne's own wings keep her airborne after she quickly removes her duster. 'Thank God!' he sighs, placing a hand over his frantic heart as she remains hovering near the tightrope's platform.

"If this day gets any more surprises, I might wind up in the hospital with Donald," Taylor groans.

"No kidding!" Reggis agrees between panting breaths.

"Conner!" Marianne screams in rage before flying quickly to push the stunned man back into his seat and pinning him there.

"What...how...you," Conner stutters, staring up in shock at the enraged teenager.

"How many times were you told to always check the equipment?!" Marianne growls out, her wings fully flared out. "That could've happened during a show! Sunny could have been up there! Or even Yuki!"

"You...you...," Conner tries before gulping as a clawed finger pushes hard against his chest.

"I don't care what your excuse is! The equipment was your responsibility!" Marianne reminds. "You could've killed someone! For all the hell you've given me, you of all people should learn to do your damn job!"

"Marianne," Bog interrupts as she pauses to take a breath, refusing to flinch as crackling amber eyes turn to him. "Accidents happen."

"Accident?" Marianne repeats skeptically. "Accidents aren't someone failing to do their job. Conner never re-checks the equipment like he's supposed to and I always brought it to his attention when I had to fix something that he should have done himself. Which was every single opening day!"

"I'm surprised you didn't fire him years ago," Bog comments.

"It crossed my mind," Marianne admits, flying away from Conner to land in front of Bog. "After all, both Dad and Grandpa would have fired him after the first three warnings, whether he had anywhere to go or not. Except if I fired him, or anybody for that matter, everyone would have known years ago that I owned the Light Field Circus and that would have been a bigger mess than this turned out to be. This would have been so much easier if Uncle Albion or Reggis took control of the circus after Dad had to relinquish ownership."

"Easier for you, maybe, but the circus ain't our thing. The past six years made that abundantly clear for me," Reggis scoffs before grabbing Marianne's closest lower wing to examine it. "I thought Uncle Donald and Aura said your wings got damaged in the fire. Looks fine to me."

"They were damaged. My wings had the same width and shape as Dawn's wings but the fire burned nearly an inch off all around, with some areas burned deeper to create that jagged shape, and if it wasn't for the natural black edges, you'd be able to see the burned scar tissue that's there," Marianne explains.

Wincing at the reminder of Marianne's near-death experience, Bog almost doesn't notice as her body starts stiffening but he quickly grabs her right hand for reassurance. Her anger about the tightrope's faulty set-up must have kept her from remembering her fear of exposing her wings. As much as he wants for her to feel free being who she is, he fully understands that these people, who should have been supportive of her, are the true reason she hides herself.

It doesn't come as any surprise to him when she pulls from his grip to fly backward enough to grab her fallen duster before disappearing through the backstage curtains. Bog sighs heavily before lifting himself from the seat and following after.

"I thought Marianne was wingless like you, Reggis," Taylor comments in the silence.

"See, that's the thing," Reggis starts, smirking deviously as he turns to look at the shocked circus workers. "What happened six years ago isn't the only thing that was kept secret. And for the same reason, too, because Grandpa didn't trust these vultures any more than Marianne did."

* * *

'I'm such a coward!' Marianne moans as she buries her face against her drawn-up knees. She had been doing fine! The tightrope snapping had snapped the last of her control and she made sure Conner knew her feelings on the matter. No more was she going to hold back. She was an adult now and it's time they listened to her instead of ignoring her.

Good thing Bog had derailed her rage or she probably would have kicked or punched Conner for his shoddy work. She still might. That was really stupid and dangerous of him not to check to make sure the coupling was fastened tight enough.

Of course, calming down had the unfortunate effect of causing her to notice her audience's expressions. The police officers left had seemed to be still reeling from the moment of horror and she could only feel sympathy for the police chief, whose ribs were probably cracked by his terrified fiancee, who didn't appear to be relaxing in the slightest. Tears lining most of the circus monkeys' faces had torn her heart with the knowledge that had things been different they would have been forced to watch her plummet to her death...or at the least, left her very severely injured. But then she noticed the others.

Horror and nausea. All staring at her wings. Everything Grandpa and Aunt Aura had feared when she was born so different.

Despite how she rationalized those harsh words she had overheard when she was younger, it didn't make it hurt any less to hear their judgment of her. A pain she could feel crushing her as she saw their disgust moments ago. Years of fear made real.

Marianne flinches as Bog emerges from the big top and turns to look at her. She couldn't bear to look at him from her place sitting against the tent.

"In spite of the fact that I probably sound like a broken record for how many times I've asked ye today, are ye okay, Marianne?" Bog asks.

"This is so stupid!" Marianne mutters. "Nothing ever happened. So why am I so afraid?!"

"Ye're afraid because...because something did happen," he murmurs, moving to sit beside her.

"Getting rejected is nothing compared to what others have faced," she counters.

"Getting rejected is exactly what a fae-touched truly faces," Bog corrects. "Every horror story we've heard is all about a fae-touched that was rejected. Rejected as a person and as a human being. Yer story is no different. Ye grew up believing that ye had to hide yer wings, that ye had to hide who ye are, and a few days of being accepted isn't going to fix all that."

"It shouldn't matter. They shouldn't matter. They already told me loud and clear that they don't want me or anything to do with me," Marianne argues.

"But they do matter. Their opinion matters to ye a lot," he comments softly.

She can't stop the violent flinch at his words. It isn't fair that they have so much power over her! Forget the past eleven years and especially the past two months, just the past four days is enough to prove they'll never accept her. So why should they get to control how she feels?! Why should their opinion matter?!

"Because they're yer family," Bog mentions.

"I didn't ask that out loud, did I?" Marianne questions.

"No," he chuckles. "I just had a good idea what's running through yer head."

"I've known about their feelings for years and I've never let it break me but...argh! You must think I'm pathetic to be so weak!" she groans.

"Ye're not weak or pathetic and I've never thought that of ye," Bog argues. "It's been a long weekend and an even longer day and it's not weak to hit yer limit, no matter how high or how low that limit is. It's okay."

"It's not okay, Bog," Marianne murmurs, lifting misty amber eyes to look at him. "I'm not okay and nothing feels okay."

Marianne doesn't resist as Bog pulls her to him and wraps his arms firmly around her as her head finds refuge against his collarbone. His own unique scent is another layer of comfort surrounding her, reassuring her of safety.

"I know, Marianne," Bog sighs. "I still don't know everything ye've gone through but I do know it's a miracle that ye didn't break before this. Ye were a child who had to grow up too soon and ye bore that burden quietly thinking that it was yer lot in life. But everything has been turned upside down for ye these past four days and now that burden is crushing ye. If ye need more time to adjust to everything, I'll let ye get out of yer contract with the Dark Forest Circus."

"What?! No, please don't do that, Bog!" Marianne protests, pulling back slightly in alarm.

"Just for a little while, so that ye can rest without all these responsibilities demanding yer attention," he explains.

"I'll be fine, I swear! Please don't kick me out of the Dark Forest Circus!" she begs.

"What?! No, no, no, no, that isn't...that's not what I'm talking about!" Bog reassures hastily. "Ye've been so caught up on taking care of everyone else that ye haven't taken care of yerself as ye should have and now it's gotten too much. I just want ye to enjoy life."

"I enjoy what I do at the Dark Forest Circus," Marianne insists. "I may feel completely...off at the moment but I swear it won't cause problems."

"Get yer mind off work," he huffs.

She can't help the giggles bubbling through her at Bog's frustrated groan. It isn't that her mind is geared to always think about work, it's just that the circus isn't a job to her, it's her life. She can't imagine herself doing anything else because the circus is what she loves. Hence why she applied for a job with the Dark Forest Circus on Friday.

"How about I just take one day at a time?" she suggests.

"As long as ye don't overburden yerself again. Tell me or Mom or someone when ye need help, whatever kind of help, even if ye are used to doing it alone," Bog orders. "Ye're not alone. Not anymore."

Giving her agreement, Marianne sighs before turning her attention toward the big top and bringing the ongoing conversation she hears as background noise into focus. As much as she wanted to just be done with the whole situation at the moment, she still has to talk to Mayor Rin about any legal repercussions against the Light Field Circus and also relieve the city's police from having to hang around. Then there's the Dark Forest Circus workers' arrival to get ready for so they can start packing this circus up and also the Light Field Circus workers to deal with...

"What?" Bog questions at her growling groan.

"That blabbermouth!" Marianne growls, glaring at the tent. "My delightful cousin apparently thinks that now is the perfect time to tell a story, a long story about me that sounds like an edited version of what I've told you."

"Maybe it is the perfect time. Even yer dad said so," he comments.

"But..," she starts before sighing. "I guess I'm outnumbered, huh?"

"It's for the best," Bog murmurs, kissing her forehead. "Come on, we might as well get ready for Imp and the others while Reggis has everyone occupied. Because I can tell ye with absolute certainty that if that they have to walk through that labyrinth, there won't be much left salvageable after they're done."

Marianne laughs at the statement before reluctantly leaving his embrace. Maybe everything is still hectic but at least she's not alone.


	16. Epilogue/Day Three Hundred Sixty-Three

The hustle and bustle filling the normally vacant field is music that most people hear as noise. She is not most people. It's an orchestra playing a symphony to her ears. Taking a deep breath of the wonderful smell accompanying the circus, Marianne walks confidently through the circus grounds.

Her amethyst black-trimmed sleeveless long duster coat swishes against the grass teasingly with every step, the billowy fabric belted around her waist not completely covering the black-laced roses adorning her rose-red laced v neck tank top or the black leggings. Her black leather platform boots complete her look while also adding six inches to her five-six height with the see-through faux rosebud wedges.

She chuckles as she flicks her amethyst and black butterfly-like wings open as she walks into view of the crowded fencing and elicits cheering from the waiting visitors. Giving a wave with her black synthetic-leather fingerless glove-covered clawed hand, she returns the smiles given by many of them as she continues her trek around the grounds for a last inspection of the preparations.

A lot has changed since they were last in this city nearly a full year ago and despite the painful start, it had been a wonderful adventure. Each city they traveled to had welcomed them with vibrant enthusiasm, adoring the changes to the Dark Forest Circus and particularly loving the closing act between her and Bog. If she had thought that the first time she performed had been freeing, it was nothing compared to the feelings each subsequent show brought her the rest of the touring year.

The difference between the Light Field Circus and the Dark Forest Circus was as obvious as night and day from that first few hours she had spent with the rival circus. There were no secrets in the Dark Forest Circus, no hushed conversations that stop the second you're in sight…well, actually there were but those resulted in blushes and giggles, so it's not the same. The biggest difference was the acceptance they freely gave out, and not just acceptance for a fae-touched but also for a non-fae-touched.

"It's all clear in this area," Greg informs as she approaches the booth he finished inspecting.

"Good. Were there any problems?" Marianne asks.

"No...well, there was a bulb I had to replace since it blew out but that's all," he admits.

"That wasn't on the new platform again, was it? Those wires might need replaced," she murmurs.

"It's fine," Greg reassures. "It was Lakeesha's booth that needed the bulb. I already triple-checked the new platform and everything is working properly. The only problem over there is Imp trying to 'fix' Sunny's music choices."

"Seriously?!" Marianne laughs. "I thought they settled that argument already!"

"Nope. They're still at it," he chuckles.

Shaking her head in amusement, Marianne waves to the non-fae-touched man before taking flight toward the faint one-sided argument she can hear taking place. She can't help rolling her eyes at the scene when she lands. Alex, Yuki, Klarissa, Kishan, Riley, Quint, and Dawn all sit on the new platform displaying various signs of frustration as Sunny struggles to convince Imp to return the confiscated CDs.

"Imp!" Marianne sighs.

_"It's a travesty!"_ Imp signs aggressively.

"That's beside the point," she mutters. "You know Bog and I already gave them the approval."

_"But...,"_ Imp starts signing.

"No buts!" Marianne interrupts, holding out her clawed hand. "Give them here."

_"I want full permission to gloat when the visitors complain,"_ Imp signs after handing over the CDs.

"What age are you again?" Alex scoffs, smirking as the older man sticks out his tongue before walking away.

"You don't think anyone will really have a problem with the music, do you?" Sunny questions softly

"I'm sure everyone will love it," Marianne reassures.

"Don't worry so much, Sunny. If Uncle really thought it was bad, then nobody would be able to stop him from protesting," Klarissa adds. "He's just picky about music."

"Or he just really likes picking on Sunny," Yuki giggles.

Marianne snickers as the younger teenagers laugh loudly at the truth of that statement. Imp did seem to enjoy picking on Sunny from that first day the Light Field Circus circus fleas joined the Dark Forest Circus. Of course, it was from affection and not from bullying as the older man had taken a shine to him almost immediately. The pair got along splendidly...until their shared love of music clashed with each other's preferences.

Letting the group continue finishing their last-minute preparations, Marianne returns to her inspection of the circus grounds. It's not something she truly needs to do since each worker she passes confirms their readiness but...

A rough sigh breaks her steady pace and she pauses to lift her face to the sky with her eyes closed as her wings flutter to relieve the hidden tension. She couldn't help it. No matter how well things had turned out in the end, there's always that nagging unease lingering at the back of her heart, especially now.

Even as she traveled with the Dark Forest Circus for the rest of last year, enjoying herself far more than she had for a long time as she performed with Bog in the big top, she hadn't been able to get her mind off of the situation surrounding the permanently-closed Light Field Circus. She had known that her father was doing well thanks to Uncle Albion's daily updates of his condition and Dawn's daily complaints of living with their strict uncle. Pare, too, had kept her informed of those who returned to the Light Field Circus' home grounds. But that hadn't erased the damage that cursed contract inflicted.

Of course, the trouble had started before the mess of last year but signing the Coup D'etat had made it worse. Uncle Albion had tried to console her, stating that the unrest began long before she was born, hence why he had chosen to leave the circus despite the racism he had at first faced in the corporate world, and that the exclusionist attitude that started infecting the Light Field Circus had nothing to do with her personally. However, she can't shake off the wrongness she always felt around those she grew up with.

Maybe she never will.

"We've talked about this before, dear heart," Plum murmurs, alerting her that she had stopped near the fortune teller tent.

"I don't know what you're talking about, Aunt Aura," Marianne comments lightly, opening her eyes to look at her.

"Of course you do," Plum counters. "Didn't the last year teach you nothing? There's nothing for you to be worried about. Everything will be fine."

"I can't help it," Marianne mutters.

"I know," Plum sighs before smiling sly. "You might as well go check on our dear ringmaster. He might do a good enough job of distracting you now that he's done stubbornly resisting you."

Marianne rolls her eyes at the remark but obeys the suggestion, barely able to keep the fond smile off her face and from going at a faster pace than a walk. Her aunt's soft laughter says how well she managed at hiding her eagerness.

One thing she's very glad about being different from last year is her relationship with the dragonfly-like-winged ringmaster. Somehow the man had turned out to be more stubborn than even her, keeping his word about not allowing their relationship get any further than mere friendship no matter how much she insisted that she wasn't repeating the same mistake she made with settling for Roland, which wasn't even a concern of Bog's but she still felt the need to mention it. Even the fact that she shared his bed with him for several weeks until they figured out how to lessen her nightmares had done nothing to weaken his resolve.

"Damn it, ye stupid thing!" Bog growls out as she approaches his trailer.

Marianne's laughter announces her as she opens the trailer door to a familiar sight of a ringmaster's elegant figure being marred by a scowl and a misbehaving wing. Dutifully, she moves forward and grabs Bog's black gold-trimmed tailcoat from his grip and helps him ease his wings into place before fixing his disheveled appearance. The only difference from the previous year's opening day where the same event took place is that after buttoning his amber waistcoat, Marianne pulls the tall figure down to lay a kiss on those tempting lips before brushing his spiked ash-brown hair into place and continuing her inspection of his tall black dress boots and black pants.

"Manx got called to assist on wrangling the circus fleas again?" she questions as she grabs his black leather cord necklace and adjusts it around his neck, caressing the honey amber butterfly pendant momentarily.

"Not this time," Bog chuckles. "He didn't say what happened, though."

"Oh, no!" Marianne groans.

"Now, none of that," he chides gently, kissing her forehead. "I'm sure it's nothing to worry about or he would have said something. Probably doesn't want ye to fret over something that they can handle."

"I just want today to go perfectly," she mutters.

"And it will. We did alright all last year and we'll do even better this year," Bog states confidently. "Now I want ye to enjoy yerself today. That's an order."

"You can't order me, remember? I'm not your employee," Marianne points out with a smirk.

"As one co-owner to the other co-owner, I formally request that ye enjoy yerself today," he corrects solemnly before smirking.

"Well, since you asked so nicely," she purrs, pulling him down for another kiss.

"Ten minutes till opening!" Stuff yells through the door before their lips meet.

"The show must go on," Marianne quips, chuckling at his frustrated growl before her amusement is smothered by his mouth.

Despite their mutual desire to continue, the pair pull back from one another after one more quick kiss. A lot had happened since that day those of the Light Field Circus signed a Coup D'etat that was doomed to fail from the start. Some of it was good, some of it still haunted her, and some had seemed to be destined to happen.

Such a strange thing it was to return back to the circus home grounds and discover that both circuses actually lived right next to each other...well, more like back-to-back to each other since the road to each property was on the opposite side. To get from one property to the other by the roads took roughly twenty minutes by vehicle, hence why it was never realized how close they actually were. That, and the fact that a thick forest laid between them with a large moss and ivy-covered stone wall spanning the entire property line. The bigger shock came when she and Bog searched the property records and discovered that their property used to be the home grounds of a circus joint-owned by two fae-touched friends, Fredrick Kingly and Lucas DuFae.

It turned out that Marianne had been right about a DuFae causing the rivalry but not as one might expect. Lucas DuFae had two sons and he had given his share of the circus to both his sons equally. Fredrick Kingly had a son and a daughter, which had created an imbalance of ownership since no matter how much he wanted his daughter to share equal footing with her brother, a woman just didn't own such a property in that day and age. Griselda couldn't keep quiet about that hogwash when they discovered the story.

They hadn't managed to find out what exactly happened to cause the circus and circus property to be split into the two separate circuses but it was obvious that the elder brothers were the ones who did so since both younger siblings had left the circus together and were never heard from again. Funny how a DuFae daughter and a Kingly son were the ones to fix what their ancestors messed up.

Stepping out of the trailer as Bog grabs his ornate golden quarterstaff and yellow-feathered black pork pie hat, Marianne takes another deep relaxing breath as she flutters her wings once more.

"Are ye alright?" Bog asks softly as he places his hat on.

"Relatively," she admits. "I can't help it. I'm trying to but..."

"I know," he murmurs as she trails off. "Everything will be alright, ye'll see."

"Aunt Aura said the same thing," Marianne comments wryly.

"The day is off to a bad start if Plum and I are agreeing on something," Bog chuckles.

Marianne joins his laughter with a shake of her head before moving toward the gated entrance. However, the humor leaves her as she catches sight of several ex-Light Field Circus workers tending to their booths and she can't stop her hand from absently-mindedly rubbing her amethyst dragonfly pendant. She had been surprised when Bog had mentioned about offering the ex-workers a job for this touring year at the hospital during their wait for the doctor's report on her father's condition. It wasn't that she was ungrateful but he had been taking a big risk, such a risk no other circus owner would have dare done. A risk that had been exceptionally clear when Pare called a few weeks before they returned to the circus home grounds to inform them that he had several of those that returned there arrested for attempted theft and vandalism. But even that had not stopped Bog's mercy on them, only commenting that he's glad that they decided not to mention the job opportunity until after they returned home so that those who were the real troublemakers weeded themselves out.

"Remember what Mom told ye," Bog mentions quietly. "It's alright not to trust them. They hurt ye bad, not just last year but for several years."

"It still feels wrong not to trust them," she mutters. "They're my family."

"They are yer family but that doesn't excuse them for what they did wrong. That's their problem to fix, not yers," he counters, pausing in his walk to hug her. "It's only been a year, Marianne, and most of that year, ye spent away from them, healing from the wounds they gave ye. Give it time, love."

She closes her eyes with another sigh and leans her forehead against his chest, his strong heartbeat resonating through her ears and blocking out all the background noise. She'd be lying if she said that she wasn't still divided about the whole situation. It's one thing that hasn't changed over the past year.

Bog is right, of course. She had mostly avoided those connected to the Light Field Circus last year while the Dark Forest Circus was touring. Sure, she talked to Dawn daily, as well as Pare and then Dad when he became well enough, and obviously the circus fleas that stayed with the Dark Forest Circus, but she had basically ignored the others, having not unblocked their phone numbers.

Even after her father was given the all-clear from the doctors to leave the hospital and then being acquitted for the probation violation once he was able to appear in court, she had still refused to talk to the others for fear of ruining her peaceful time with the Dark Forest Circus. She was glad when her father decided to stay with Uncle Albion for the rest of the touring year instead of returning home and not just because he had finally decided to amputate his wings to relieve his pain but also because that meant that she could continue avoiding confronting those back home.

Too bad it wasn't that easy avoiding Griselda. Finding out the perceptive woman is actually a licensed psychologist made a lot of sense. She wasn't just a well-meaning meddling woman, she was a professional well-meaning meddling woman and she made it her priority to help Marianne face and deal with everything she went through.

It was hard in the beginning to truly acknowledge what had happened in the past, to face that the adults in her life had failed in their responsibilities and that it wasn't her fault. It was even harder to face the fact that though her family had done the best that they could have, it wasn't good enough, a fault that was neither hers nor theirs. But Griselda had been persistent that the past needed to be seen for what it was and dealt with so that it couldn't interfere with the present. It was something that she usually did for each new arrival to the Dark Forest Circus and she felt that it was especially important with the newest arrivals because of the circumstances.

"Come on then, tough girl," Bog comments after a moment. "Let's go welcome the waiting visitors to the first opening day of the Strange Magic Circus and then you can go rescue our parents from the savage circus fleas."

Marianne laughs as she pulls back from his embrace. Maybe things are still not fully resolved but that's okay. After all, real life is a neverending story that doesn't just end with a 'Happily Ever After' once a particular chapter ends. Last year was the end of a long chapter about two rival circuses who traveled side-by-side but worlds apart. Now it's time to start a new chapter. A chapter about one circus, neither dark fae-touched nor light fae-touched, but both and so much more.

Tea Blend.


End file.
